



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

©l^nitPZSeojpjrlg^ :|ij. . 

Shelf J1-7.-S4 C 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




p •. 


- 

. z 






f » 


I ' "rl > ' 'i*”' ** •* ■» 

;’f'l .:■ /•» 'TV.. ^ 1 . • 


V:--^ 


rrr t; •-. . r ' ' ■■ ■ 

■EwT-wJk ^. ■ r^p.y*. * . .. _t.': ‘> 


• ’ it*. * \ •■< 

, ' ‘ . • • ' *:) 

* • > • 





•« ' 


■- V*- ■ ■■ ’ . - 

•'S-; ■ ■ ■■' ■■ ?'■; . ■-■' ■ ' 

A. A 


I ■** t 

t‘ .A* ^ S' 

• • • * 





* « 




'U** 


••• 

• ^ 


• 9 




♦ » 


t i 


■M • . < « ' r • r I 

W ■' ^■>- 


. • i > • ^ 






V f , 

" ^ • . 4 


• % 




0 

s 

' r* 

tfr T' :: 

•'. ' ) 

^V‘ • 

. y 


1 




, . t' • Ws- ’ • 

> aV ., ts- .■ ’ . 


» 




• e 


> 

. 1 


jt i, . 

i* • ■• 


■* 1: .* ^ *' r 

■A • • ^. ' * . 





C 9 



1 'p 

-■.* 

!• m 

« 

4' ' ^ - • * 

« 

r*» ' 

■ *4. - 

yr ■' 

• 






\y^ \ 

■• *'^‘ • *. *■ 
• • » ♦ » 


' ‘* X *» 


V 




- 'W^ 

» 


■ 

V 


r 


f'lC 


^ I 


» V 






>-. >■»;, 
.1 


'♦i- • 

I 




« 


• ^ 

■•’Va:.; 

'» * 





• /* 


•' t. •- 4 ' ■ i 


• ^ 


4 « 


, 5?'> ‘ A "1 .iL V' ' y 

■ K ‘ '•' . , * •* ^v. ' < '. <'s •: 

-«^.0. v-. ', •• '■ ^ 

• . k*CV^V • ^ ^•* • \fe ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

' ■> ■ : . ■'- - 

^ > ••' V* . WAi- ’./ • * ' V # . WA : ' f . < ‘ '. i • ' ' ’ •. ' I 


• ^ V’ • 

4 •* ^V. ' 

• . •’ J- 


<• ;M 


^>v, 'pi 'Tv. ‘.-C*- ■ 

' v-^ >' "I - '■- 

. •. ~V :.. ■ ^ 

' -k' . •« • •*■•.• 


. ■' 4’^' '•*v ■ • ■' ■ 

*1% ' • ■' • ■' : 

► vt. ' 


.'L # 


/. 


■ V • ^ ^ ‘ -4 

'm ' ‘ ' ‘ V-' * ‘/' • • '• 

!*.V‘. i' . ' ''•'. 

-■•';■ ■ ■ ■ '•'- V'"- 

. ^■-VA-.■ -‘r .-^ ■ ■• , ■■•■,; 




•f - y ‘ • j ’ j 






A - 4 , .P- 

I ^ • ■•'’1 ' 

■■ -^ ■ *■ ' ':%\U- 

'iJLx.'f >1 »_ < 


4 A < 





' .4* 
*4i 






; 


i 

• i 

C 4 


•.*A 




4 ^ 

I 


H 




y * - 


I * • 


i 

V •♦ 


j»'' ‘. :■■■;■. ■ . ' '.t5 •-,■•'«•;., ••- 




V- V ■ • 




% » 




9 f 






I 

f 


• > 


^'■Y ^ ^ ^ 

‘.^(i -f’ -A ' 


^ ' 


.'A' 


*» 




' -A 


v^ 


V ' 

r .• V 


► V 


\ * 


^ *s' 


‘AA'- 




V' 

<.*’/■. . 


/■ ;'i’'.' 

..:'^V' 






» 

t, 

% 


♦ - % ' 

. . uM 

•* . ,> 




>-4 



n i 








9 


o 


THE 


CONTRAST; 

A TAIiE OF FACTS. 


DESIGNED TO SHOW THE ADVANTAGES OF A RELIGIOUS OVER 
AN IRRELIGIOUS EDUCATION IN THE FAMILY. 


BY 


/ 


DARNALL DOWDEN. 

» > 



1880. 




Entered according to act of Congress, in the year l88o, by 
DARNALL DOWDEN, 

r In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


'i'k 


/ 


BLBCTROTVrBD BY 
ROBERT ROWBLU 


PRINTED AT THE 
COURIBR-JOURNAL JOB ROOMS. 


MY APOLOGY. 


When I was younger than I am now, by a quarter of a century, 
some circumstances gave rise to the conception of the following 
pages. I then wrote several of the chapters, but the manuscript 
was burnt in i86i, when my house and its contents were consumed. 
I gave up the idea of ever “perpetrating” abook; but a few years 
ago my children persuaded me to reproduce and finish it. I yielded 
to their solicitations, and in spare hours committed it to paper. 
Since writing it, I have shown it to such men as A. C. Caperton, 
R. L. Thurman, A. B. Cabaniss, V. E. Kirtley, J. R. Ware, and 
many others in the ministry; besides several gentlemen belonging 
to the legal profession, among whom are Judges J. A. Murry and 
Jas. Stewart, of the Fifth Judicial District of Ky.; and all of 
them have encouraged its publication, as calculated to do good. 

And this is my apology for offering it to the public. 

Yours, &c., D. DOWDEN. 

P. S. Having written these pages at intervals, sometimes with 
several months intervening between chapters, I find occasional 
repetitions of language and ideas. And this is my apology for 
that defect. 


i 

f 


% 


% 





. 


I 


I 


THE CONTRAST. 


CHAPTER I. 


In the town of Leightonville, in the southern part 
of Kentucky, there lived many years ago an old man, 
whose name, for the sake of convenience, I shall call 
Hostell. 

At the time of which I write, he seemed to be about 
seventy-five years of age; he may have been more, 
possibly less. His exact age, however, is immaterial 
to our purpose, and we will not, therefore, inquire 
particularly into it. Upon first sight, or to a casual 
observer, he seemed a sober, sedate and happy old man; 
but upon an acquaintance with him, which he never al- 
lowed to become an intimacy, the practiced eye would 
detect a nature full of bitterness, a disposition most 
unlovely in any and every phase. He was a very 
Ishmael in his own eyes. He thought every man’s 
hand was against him, ” and hence his hand was against 
every man. Although he had an ordinary amount of 

( 5 ) 


6 


THE CONTRAST. 


common sense, yet he was often imposed on by the 
designing knave; and, though he certainly had age 
and experience both on his side, he profited by neither, 
but was as easily duped the day after an exposure of ; 
some rascdity practiced upon him as when he first 
set out on life’s long and weird journey. The villain 
had only to put on some of the airs of a gentleman, 
patronize his bar and curse those whom Hostell hated 
most, to secure his confidence, at least so far as any 
were ever suffered to secure it. 

Such confidence opened his purse, but never his 
heart. This was a closed chamber, which even the 
woman he had sworn to love as himself and called by 
the sacred name of wife was never permitted to un- 
lock. There the fires of hatred, malice, revenge and 
bitter resentment burned with unremitting fury ; and, 
as if conscious of its malevolent contents, he guarded 
every avenue to its secret chambers with sleepless 
vigilance. 

Hostell had some undefined idea of respectability, 
but what it was he never told, and no one else was 
ever able to divine it. The good opinion of his neigh- 
bors he neither sought nor appeared to desire. He 
rather seemed to take a malicious pleasure in broils, 
lawsuits and general disturbances in the community, 
than in the quiet and good understanding thereof. 
Evidently, ‘‘the way of peace he had not known. 
To guess at what he meant or understood by respect- 
ability, therefore, would be an impossibility ; unless, 
indeed, he considered it as the possession of a certain 


THE CONTRAST. 


7 


amount of money. Still he talked of his standing and 
of his honovy as if they were not mere phantoms. But 
he has passed over the last river without giving us any 
clew to the meaning he attached to such words, and 
we must content ourselves with what is known of him^ 
leaving the unknown amid the Lethean shades. 

Such, in part at least, was Hostell, the tavern-keeper 
of Leightonville. 

Mrs. Hostell was, in many respects, a duplicate of 
her husband. The twain were a unit in their utter 
contempt for society at large. The customs in use 
were horrid blunders, according to their ideas of pro- 
priety. When in their company, if you attempted to 
be natural and easy, they took it for a familiarity they 
could by no means allow ; and if you observed a stiff 
and unapproachable manner, you were set down as a 
fop or a fool. There was no possible chance to please 
them in point of deportment. When you would act 
the gentleman, they wanted a zany ; and if you turned 
buffoon, they wished a Chesterfield. But, with all 
these affinities, they were not calculated to make each 
other happy. The elements of happiness must exist 
in one’s own bosom, if aught on earth can make him 
so. These, Hostell and his wife had not, and therefore 
the “gold of opher,’’ *^the cattle on a thousand hills,” 
nor the obsequious honors of a nation of slaves could 
ever have brought a boon so bright to their hearts. 
Kindred feelings and dispositions may exist; but, 
where these all center in evil, they bring not happiness 
but the mere pleasures of sin. Such pleasures the 


8 


THE CONTRAST. 


demons down in Erebus may enjoy. We envy not 
the human being who hopes to find his happiness in 
forbidden pleasures ! 

In Mrs. HostelFs character, however, there were 
some commendable traits. She had a heart that could 
“melt at pity’s call,” though it seldom did it. She 
never went out of the way to find the suffering, it was 
not a rule of her life to hunt up the needy and admin- 
ister to their wants ; but, if chance threw a sufferer in 
her path, she was ever ready to relieve his present 
necessities. The hungry she would not “turn empty 
away,” nor did the naked go shivering from her door. 
Yet these little, occasional charities were bestowed 
with such pitiless storms of invective that the poor, 
sensitive recipient of her favors often felt that it was 
an affliction to be blessed by her hand. No kind word 
of sympathy or encouragement ever accompanied her 
acts of benevolence; complaints about “so many 
beggars ” and ‘ ‘ so much laziness ” were the attendants 
instead. But, seldom and meager and mean as her 
charities were, old Hostell would generally make them 
the occasion for a ruthless attack upon his wife. One 
such act on her part would serve as a text for six 
months or more, whenever he wished an altercation 
with her. This desire she was but too ready to grat- 
ify. On such an occasion she never appealed to the 
finer feelings of his heart, but to the vilest passions of 
his depraved nature. Her abuse was not of his want 
of benevolence, sympathy or human kindness, but of 
his disposition to meddle with other people’s business, 


THE CONTRAST. 


9 


and his faults and failures generally. Thus a heated 
contest was often kept up for hours together. So it 
came to be a question, at last, whether she was really 
charitable to the poor and needy, or was only pro- 
viding for a quarrel with her husband, in all these 
pseudo-charities. If we were to judge from the appa- 
rent delight she took in these contests, we would have 
to conclude that she was but laying the foundation for 
them when she fed the hungry and clothed the naked ; 
still, that charity that thinketh no evil” will give 
her due credit for all she ever did. 

Of the personal appearance of this fiery termagant, 
I shall only say, that if she had lived in Salem, Mass. , 
two hundred years ago, her keen black eye, hatchet 
face, sharp nose, lantern jaws, sunken mouth, protrud- 
ing chin and stooping shoulders would have been 
mistaken by the witch-burners as sufficient evidence 
of her guilt in the familiar art.” 

To this singular pair were given four children. The 
eldest but one was a son, who answered to the name 
of William Tourney Hostell, the middle name being 
intended to perpetuate the mother’s maiden name in 
the family. It was doubtless a blessing to society 
that three out of four children in such a family were 
girls ; for, although bad mothers are the greatest curse 
that can ever befall any nation, it must not be forgotten 
that all women do not become mothers. Besides, 
woman’s sphere is more limited than that of the man, 
and her bad influence is, therefore, confined to a com- 
paratively small circle, while bad men may go forth, 


10 


THE CONTRAST. 


it may be, to curse a whole continent — by becoming- 
the leader of banditti, the mover of seditions, or, per- 
haps, by foisting upon the world a religion as shocking 
as Mohammedanism or as vile as Mormonism. Wom- 
an’s empire is home ; and although a few of the sex 
have talked of “woman’s rights,” and attempted to 
invade the territory of their worshippers, still God has 
set bounds that she can not pass. As to old ocean, 
so he has said to the woman : “ Hitherto shalt thou 
come, but no farther'' Her sensitive nature unfits her 
for the rude jostles of life, and her very fears consti- 
tute a wall between her and the great world which 
she can never pass and retain her sweetest charm. 

She may play truant for awhile, but as the needle 
to the pole, so she must and will settle back into her 
own place, and learn at last that she must shine, if 
shine at all, through her husband and her sons. In 
these her true greatness is seen, and in them her vile- 
ness is most plainly discovered. The woman who 
guides the tottery steps of childhood aright, and leads 
the youth through the mazes of temptation to the 
goal of a virtuous life, and then, in the person of that 
child and youth, gives to the world a Washington or 
a Madison, deserves more eclat than a nation of Cleo- 
patras scheming for place, or ten thousand Joans lead- 
ing immense armies to victory. She deserves more 
and she gets more! Hostell’s children, like their 
parents, shunned the society of the good. William 
Tourney would drop into a back pew at church occa- 
sionally, as if by accident, and apparently for no 


THE CONTRAST. 


II 


A 

Other purpose than to catch a sentence which might 
be tortured into a bundle of nonsense, and as soon as 
he could do this he would leave the house (never wait- 
ing until the service was over) and seek his wicked 
associates to have his fun out of whatever he might 
have seen or heard that would serve his purpose. 
The girls, though they would attend once or twice a 
year, were such strangers in the house of devotion, 
that their presence was always the subject of remark 
by others. Their male associates were the loungers 
about their father’s bar; their recreations a game 
of cards, where a kiss or a glass of wine was the 
stake. Where such were the alliances entered into, 
and such the habits formed in early life, what could a 
parent expect, or even hope, but shame in the end? 
This is but the ripe fruit from flowers of such baleful 
plants — the plentiful harvest from seeds of such 
poisonous germ. Yet this unhappy couple expected 
no such result from their negligence of their offspring, 
or the training they had given them. 

They loved their children, but never restrained 
them; they advised them, but as often to evil as 
otherwise. Religion was a humbug in their estima- 
tion, and this idea they most industriously instilled 
into the minds of their children. And even morality 
was a thing of negative existence only. A few of 
the grosser crimes were forbidden by them, but all 
the tricks of trade commended and even taught. 
Gaming itself was considered an accomplishment and 
a useful art. 


12 


THE CONTRAST. 


n 

Thus it was that Hostell turned his children loose 
upon the world without a moral compass to guide 
them over life’s wild ‘‘breakers,” or the sheet-anchor 
of religion to steady their vessel in the tempests of 
passion or the storms of adversity. 

We shall trace his sad and dangerous mistake in 
the lives of his children. Of one of the daughters 
we must say nothing in particular. Our general 
remarks apply to her as to her sisters up to the time 
of her death, which occurred when she was just verg- 
ing on to womanhood. If she had virtues, let us 
rejoice that she was not allowed to remain until they 
were strangled by the vicious around her. And if 
she had faults, let the oblivious grave cover them 
forever out of sight. 

As soon as William Tourney was able to walk the 
thirty yards that stretched between the domicil and the 
bar, or “grocery,” as it was generally called, he was 
regularly sent by his mother to that center of attraction 
to relieve her of the trouble of him. (O ! how many 
mothers send off their little boys, and girls too for 
that matter, just to get rid of the trouble of them, and 
have them returned to them graduates in vice.) 

Let us take a peep into this same bar-room on some 
quiet day. A County Court day would not answer 
our purpose so well at present. On such occasions 
“the grocery” was a boiling, seething caldron of iniq- 
uity of which we had better keep clear. But we may 
venture in on a “dull day,” as those were called in 
which there was only a moderate amount of drinking 


THE CONTRAST. 1 5 

going on — ^when there were only half a dozen or so 
on the stocks. 

The exterior presents nothing noteworthy, so we 
will go in at once. Our entrance is of course by the 
front door, and we are by one step transferred from 
the side walk into the far-famed “grocery.” Our 
ancestors had not then learned to improvise blinds on 
the inside of the front doors of bar-rooms to hide the 
infamy at the counter. 

The room we have entered is sufficiently spacious, 
besides there are several side-pockets attached, so 
that a vast crowd may be accommodated here with 
shelter as well as brandy. The walls are literally cov- 
ered with show bills, which advertise wares Hostell 
keeps for sale, for the reader must not suppose that 
the “grocery” was a mere **bar.*^ A few articles of 
use, some of the more common luxuries, and a trifle 
of confection were displayed along the lower shelves, 
while a countless number of patent medicines filled 
the upper ones. On such a day as we have chosen 
to introduce our readers to this place of renown, it 
was amusing to see the early denizens of Kentucky 
industriously deciphering the brazen bills, furnished 
so profusely by the savans of medicine, the virtues of 
whose nostrums they were designed to set forth. 
Hostell was always careful to explain dark, bom- 
bastic medical phrases to the unlearned. And this he 
did in the manner best calculated to insure a sale. 
Those who have observed the drinking class closely 
have, doubtless, noticed that they are of all others 


14 


THE CONTRAST. 


most likely to conclude that they are the subjects of 
whatever disease they read a minute description of. 
Hostell had learned this fact and was not wanting in 
disposition to take advantage of it. Hence he kept 
these medicines for sale under the same roof where 
the poor inebriate was most likely to fancy he stood 
in need of them. And thus he reaped a double har- 
vest from **the pockets of the poor.” He first sold 
them spirits to make them sick, and then ‘‘patent 
medicine” to make them well, and was considered by 
•each staggering swain one of the greatest of men. 

Perhaps my readers, or some of them at least, have 
noticed another rather remarkable trait in the charac- 
ter of almost all drinking men. I refer to their fond- 
ness for other people’s children. This is particularly 
the case when the child is of a ready turn of mind. 
A little impudence, however, will as readily pass 
with them for wit as a really shrewd answer. There- 
fore, if a child is actually smart, witty, or impudent, 
he is praised by a drunkard with many a fulsome oath 
as a very prodigy. Now, it so happened that William 
Tourney united these three qualifications to please 
this class of men in his own person. The kind Crea- 
tor had given him a mind that might have made him 
a Newton or Locke, if he had been trained by a 
Christian mother’s hand. But alas ! those powers of 
mind were taught to dig in the dens of iniquity rather 
than to soar in the fields of sanctified thought — to 
grovel in the cess-pools of vice, instead of mounting 
to the very stars in the chariots of holiest fire. His 


THE CONTRAST. 


15 


mind was too powerful to be inactive. It was form- 
ed for labor. And as the rich earth when left untilled 
brings noxious weeds and briers, so William’s mind, 
unoccupied by anything useful, produced a harvest of 
evil. He was witty to satiety, and impudent as a 
yankee pedlar. To all this was added a face fair and 
even beautiful. Nature was lavish in her bestowments 
in his case. It was not wonderful, therefore, that he 
soon become the favorite toy with his father’s customers. 

In this sink he took his first lessons in drinking, 
swearing and gambling. He mastered them well. 
It was his father’s boast that he could, at the early 
age of eight years, beat any man, who was not a pro- 
fessional gambler, ‘‘best six in eleven,” at cards. It 
was here, first out of good will tov/ards the child, that 
the topers would give him the sugar out of the glasses 
they had drained, and then to make his tongue go off 
more glibly, they added a wee-bit of the “O be joy- 
ful.” Was it any wonder that he early learned to 
love the dangerous draught? How could it be other- 
wise ? And did his father know all that was going on 
in this particular? Yes, he knew it all, and enjoyed 
the sport as intensely as those who perpetrated the 
horrid kindness (?). And although he had carried him 
in his arms to his mother, in a state of insensibility, 
more than once before he was six years old, he did 
not seem to see the vortex ahead, or dream of the 
danger enshrouding his child. Alas, for the blind- 
ness of man ! What madness rules his actions and 
shapes the future of his offspring ! 


CHAPTER II. 


“Why, William Tourney ! What on the earth is the 
matter? Where have you been? What have you 
been doing? How did you get hurt?’* were exclama- 
tory interrogatives that came tumbling over each 
other as fast as Mrs. Hostell could speak one evening 
as her son entered her apartment with bloody nose 
and tear-streaked face. 

“Why, that nasty, hateful Wes. Gipson went and 
beat me, and I wasn’t doing anything to him, either,” 
was the spiteful reply, which might have been consid- 
erably lengthened had not Hostell entered and asked 
in an imperative manner — “What’s the matter now ?” 

Mrs. Hostell’s blood was up, and she waited not to 
have her husband informed of the cause of the boy’s 
plight, but began a fierce tirade, as was her custom on 
all such occasions. 

Mr. Hostell (she always put double stress on the 
‘ tell * part of her husband’s name when she was in a 
fury), it seems to me that you pay no more attention 
to the children than if they were not on the place. 
‘T (the I was always a loud one when there was 


THE CONTRAST. 


17 


temper in it) I may toil my life out to try to keep 
things in some kind of order and then can’t even 
have the care and trouble of the children taken 
off my hands; here is William Tourney now in a 
nice pickle — just look at his clothes, if anybody will ! 
And yet you don’t care any more than if he were a 
perfect stranger. I only wish in my heart you had them 
clothes to wash and iron — then I guess you’d know a 
little about what a woman has to go through with ! ’* 

* ‘ What do you mean, Cassa? ” was rung out in clear, 
loud, angry, threatening tones; and Mrs. Hostell, 
somewhat intimidated by the manner of her husband, 
turned the tide of her wrath upon Wes. Gipson. ‘‘I 
mean, ” she continued, ' ‘ that here is William Tourney 
beat and abused shamefully by that detestable Wes. 
Gipson. He is always at something mean — I wish I 
could have my way with him a little while — I’d learn 
him how to beat and cuff other people’s children — 
and I’d take him out of that school-house and put 
him to work on somebody’s farm — he is none too 
good. I’m sure — and I never could see what they want 
to give him so much education for no how — it will 
only learn him how to cheat his honest neighbors — 
but I reckon old Gipson thinks him a saint” — and Mrs. 
Hostell paused for breath. She had exhausted her 
lungs and invectives. 

Hostell again asked William what was the matter, 
and upon learning that there was nothing of much 
consequence, anyway, but that young Gipson had 
knocked William over on the play-ground for some 
(2) 


i8 


THE CONTRAST. 


of his impudence, he boxed his ears, cursed Gipson, 
and left the house. This was doubtless to avoid far- 
ther altercation with his wife. But he had taught 
his boy a dangerous lesson, which he practiced in 
after life. William had felt the blow his father would 
fain have given Gipson. 

Let us now turn from this boisterous scene to one 
of quite a different character. Fifteen minutes after 
the disturbance on the play-ground alluded to in the 
above, Westerfield Gipson and his cousin. Arch. 
Duncan, entered the family room at Mr. Gipson’s. 

“Good evening, boys; take chairs.” And Mrs. 
Gipson laid aside her sewing that she might converse 
in an easy, familiar way with her son and nephew; 
but her quick eye discovered at a glance that Wester- 
field was greatly excited, and she asked at once the 
cause, adding, “Are you sick? or has anything un- 
pleasant taken place?” 

“I am not sick, mother,” said he, “but I have had 
an unpleasant affair with William Hostell on the play- 
ground.” 

O my son ! why would you suffer yourself to be 
drawn into a difficulty with such a child? I do insist 
that you shall have other associates. That child will 
ruin the morals of all who receive his companionship.” 

“Mother, don’t lay the matter too much to heart; it 
is not so bad as you think it is, perhaps, and when you 
hear all you will at least admit that I was not making 
him an associate, if, indeed, I was to blame at all in 
the case.” 


THE CONTRAST. 


19 


‘ ‘ I will hear you, my son ; I have no reason to fear 
an incorrect statement; you always tell the truth," 
said Mrs. Gipson kindly. 

Westerfield then told her that after school was out, 
he, and others, had commenced a game of ball, and 
while thus engaged William Hostell came on the play- 
ground and commenced kicking the ball, and snatch- 
ing it from the smaller boys and throwing it away to 
annoy them. “I asked him several times," said Wes- 
terfield, ‘‘in a kind and pleasant way, not to interrupt 
our game, but he only seemed the more determined 
to do so ; and at length, as cousin Arch, was in the 
act of stooping to pick up the ball, he ran against him, 
upsetting him unceremoniously, and then laughed so 
maliciously that I really felt provoked. I then talked to 
him as politely as I could about treating a boy smaller 
than himself in so mean a manner, and asked him if he 
did not feel ashamed of himself? when he walked up to 
me, mocking me as he advanced, and making ugly faces 
at me until he stood just before and close to me. I 
again shamed him for such conduct, when he spit full 
in my face ! Mother, I could not stand that. I knocked 
him down, and when he got up and went off crying I 
felt sorry lor him, but I couldn’t stand every thing." 

Mrs. Gipson said she was truly glad the case was 
no worse, “but,” said she, “my son you ought to 
have left the play-ground as soon as William came and 
commenced a disturbance, and thus you would have 
avoided an unpleasant difficulty and have been saved 
the disgrace of a street brawl." 


20 


THE CONTRAST. 


** But, mother, we wanted to finish our game, and 
what right had he to interrupt us?” 

‘ ‘ No right to do so at all, my son, but he did it not- 
withstanding, and it would have been better for you, 
and him, if you had quietly left the place at once.’^ 

“Yet I can not see, mother, why we should be 
compelled to leave our play unfinished just on his ac- 
count.” 

“My son, did you finish the game after he left?”’ 

“No ma’am, we came home immediately. I did 
not feel like playing after I struck him,” said the no- 
ble youth. 

“Then you see,” said his mother, “the play ended 
just where it would have ended, if you had left off as 
soon as William came among you, so that even that 
small object — the playing out of your game — was not 
secured. The disgrace of a public brawl and an un- 
easy conscience is all you gained by remaining.” 

“I see it in a different light, now, mother, and I 
thank you for showing it to me. I hope to profit by 
this lesson you have given me. I will know better 
another time how to avoid a difficulty.” 

When the family gathered around the little stand 
that night for prayer, Westerfield voluntarily told his 
father all the particulars of the difficulty, and asked 
him to forgive his folly and sin in the case. His father 
saw the evidences of repentance in his son, and wisely 
forebore to chide him, but told him he was proud that 
he saw his error and was not ashamed to confess it. 

“Yet, my son,” continued the father, “God saw 


THE CONTRAST. 


21 


your act, and knew the thought of your heart at the 
moment you struck William. There is nothing hidden 
from His eyes ; He looks into the deep recesses of our 
hearts and knows our thoughts afar off. You are a 
sinner in His sight, as are all men, and you are there- 
fore in need of His forgiving love. Seek it, my son, 
and He will give it.” 

Mr. Gipson then read a portion of the sixth chapter 
of Matthew, beginning with the fifth verse. When 
through with this Bible lesson, the whole family knelt 
before their Maker while the father led the devotions. 
His words were few and simple. He referred to the 
trouble his son was in, thanked God for the evidence 
of repentance manifested, and prayed that it might be 
of an evangelical character, and that God would hence- 
forth keep him and each member of the family from 
evil and at last give them a home among the sanctified. 
He closed, and all quietly retired for the night. 

If the Gipsons had heard Mrs. Hostell’s tirade about 
putting Westerfield to ‘‘work,” the uselessness of 
“education” and “cheating honest neighbors, ” I pre- 
sume it would have had no other effect than to have 
produced a smile of pity. 

However, they were in blissful ignorance of her 
sage conclusions on the subject, and, as they thought 
they could see the use of education, their son continued 
his studies in the village academy for two or three 
years after the occurrences we have here related. He 
continued to hold the first rank in his class and in the 
affections of his teacher and fellow-students. His untir- 


22 


THE CONTRAST. 


ing industry not only enabled him to recite perfect les- 
sons on every occasion, but also to aid those who were 
less advanced than himself ; and this aid was always 
given so pleasantly and so thoroughly that it was 
almost a pleasure to be under the necessity of asking 
help of one so kind. His teacher used to say with 
pride that he would one day be an honor to his parents 
and perhaps a blessing to his country. 

It would be foolish to deny that his parents and 
sisters were proud of him ; but theirs was an humble, 
thankful pride that we can not find it in our hearts to 
reprove. Often, when Mr. Gipson witnessed some 
promising success of his son’s with which he could 
but be greatly pleased, he would thank God for it and 
pray that his son might consecrate all his abilities to 
the service of his Redeemer, and that as a family they 
might not make an idol of their only boy or of the 
promise that he gave. Under such training. Wester- 
field was not likely to become vain. 

We have been thus particular in describing the 
family government in Mr. Gipson’s houshold, because 
we expect to mark the career of the lad we have intro- 
duced to our readers from his family. We shall be 
able to judge more accurately between a religious and 
an irreligious education, when we have traced their 
different effects, side by side, in the lives of those who 
have been brought up under each. 

Mr. Gipson had designed his son for the law, if it 
should devolve on him to choose a calling for him, 
but he had hoped and often prayed that God would 


THE CONTRAST. 


23 


make of him a herald of Salvation. He was so old- 
fashioned that he really believed the ministry the most 
honorable calling that mortal man was ever permitted 
to engage in. So singular was he on this point that 
he has been heard to say: would rather know that 

my son was ‘ called of God as was Aaron, ' to preach 
Christ to a perishing world, than to see him made the 
president of the nation by the united voice of a free 
people ! I would prefer to hear his voice lifted up in 
warning accents, calling the unregenerate to ‘ flee the 
wrath to come, ’ than to hear it thrill in the Senate or 
thunder in the halls of Congress! " 

Mr. Gipson loved the house of devotion, and there- 
fore never allowed business or company to prevent 
his presence at the gatherings there. He taught his 
children to reverence the place, and to seek spiritual 
health and strength in its holy atmosphere. Moreover, 
he esteemed those very highly, for their work’s sake, 
who ministered in holy things. His pastor never ap- 
plied to him in vain for aid. He would often say: 

‘ ‘ All that I have is the Lord’s : I hold it only at his 
pleasure and would fain use it for his honor.” And 
such an expression from him meant something, — it 
was not idle verbiage. He held his property in reality^ 
not in word only, as a talent from his Lord, which he 
felt he was under obligation to use for Him, and not 
for self. Often, when his “lands brought forth 
abundantly,” he might have been seen alone in his 
fields, where the harvest was thickest, on his knees, 
with tear-stained face, pouring out his thanksgiving 


24 


THE CONTRAST. 


to God for his bounty, and humbly asking how he 
should ‘^bestow” it so as best to honor the glorious 
Giver. And when his garners were filled with golden 
grain, the deserving poor were never forgotten. He 
had asked God to tell him where to bestow’' it and 
He always told him. 

‘ ‘ The widow’s prayer and orphan’s smile 

Have blessed the liberal soul, and caused his heart to leap 

With ecstacies unknown to men of meaner minds.” 


CHAPTER III. 


*T wonder what can be keeping papa out so late 
this dreadful night?” said Alice Lovelace to her 
mother, as she returned the third time from the front 
door, whence she had vainly peered into the thick 
darkness for the returning father. 

The younger members of the family were snugly 
tucked away in their trundle-bed, save baby, who oc- 
cupied a crib-cradle rocked by an occasional tip of the 
mother's foot as her nimble fingers plied the “flying 
needle.” Alice was a sweet girl of sixteen summers, 
who sat up with her mother for company, and made 
herself otherwise useful by knitting a pair of warm 
socks for Bobby. 

The night was one of those dark, stormy Decem- 
ber nights in which rain and sleet are driven in alter- 
nate showers and pitiless fury into the traveler’s face, 
and the howling wind searches every crevice in the 
dwellings of the poor. 

Mr. Lovelace had ridden into the country to see a 
sick parishioner that evening, expecting to return be- 
fore night, but the clock in the corner had struck 

(25) 


26 


THE CONTRAST. 


nine and the wife and daughter still waited. 
fear,” said Mrs. Lovelace, ' ‘ that Sister Newton is much 
worse. I can think of nothing else that would have 
kept your father out so late to-night. ” 

“But,” said Alice, “if she were worse she would 
have sent for the doctor, and I saw him at the office 
after sundown.” 

“Well, Alice, if he were in town this evening that 
removes my fears for Sister Newton, for there are but 
few men who think more of a sister, and certainly 
none are more attentive than Dr. Alburton.” 

“True,” said the daughter, “and but few sisters re^ 
ciprocate a brother’s love as she does. One would 
almost think they lived only for each other’s happiness.’ ^ 
“They are very much attached to each other,” said 
Mrs. Lovelace, “and in this mutual affection they re- 
flect a great deal of credit on their parents.” 

“Yes, mother, and your remark, I believe, has ex- 
plained a passage of Scripture to me which I was 
reading this evening, and I thought at the time I would 
ask papa to interpret for me. It is in the eleventh 
chapter of Hebrews, and at the fourth verse: ‘And 
by it he being dead yet speaketh.’ My difficulty was 
to understand how Abel was yet speaking by his faith, 
when he was dead. But I see now that Abel’s faith 
yet lives in others, and exerts a holy influence in so- 
ciety, as the faith and good works of Dr. Alburton’s 
parents still live in him and his sister, and exert an 
influence for good upon those around them. Am I 
correct in this view of the passage?” 


THE CONTRAST. 


27 


‘‘I think so, my dear. The good or bad influence 
of men in this life dies not with their mortal bodies, 
but lives in others long after their names are quite 
forgotten.” And the mother added with a sigh, 
“How careful we should be to set in motion no in- 
fluence that we would be afraid to meet in the 
eternal future.” 

Thus the mother and daughter talked on together 
until nearly ten o’clock, when Mr. Lovelace knocked 
for admittance. Alice ran and opened the door, and 
after helping him off with his overcoat, shook it and 
hung it in its place. Meanwhile the good wife stirred 
the glowing coals and added a little more fuel to the 
flame. As soon as he was seated in the “old armed 
chair” Mrs. Lovelace asked after the health of Sister 
Newton. 

“She is quite well,” said the husband, smiling; 
“there has been nothing the matter with her save a 
slight cold. ” Then, after a short pause, he continued : 
“You are ready to ask what has kept me out so late ? 

“Yes; we were fearful that Sister Newton was dan- 
gerously ill, and we were only prevented from settlings 
down in this belief by the fact that Dr. Alburton was- 
in town.” 

‘ ‘ Sister Newton was indeed well, but you know she 
is always finding out the necessitous and seeking to 
do them good in some way. Well, she had visited a 
poor woman, several miles below her house, who had 
been abandoned by her husband and left in a very 
destitute condition. She had learned from her that 


28 


THE CONTRAST. 


her father lived in Leightonville. His name is Hos- 
tell.” 

‘ ‘ I wonder if it can be the old man who tried to 
break up your meeting two years ago, when you 
were aiding Brother Thomas?" said Mrs. Lovelace. 

“The same old man," answered her husband. “ He 
procured the services of some drunken wretch to 
come and preach Universalisin in the town several 
nights during our meeting. But God was with us 
and Satan could not hinder the good work." 

“But I interrupted you in your story of the de- 
serted wife," said his wife. “Please go on with it." 

“Yes," continued the husband; “Sister Newton 
wanted me to see this woman, and, if possible, make 
some arrangement to get her home — that is, to her 
father’s. I found her a woman of good natural sense, 
with but little cultivation. She seems unwdlling to 
trust any one wuth a communication of her condition, 
-except as she does so in her complaints against those 
who have mistreated her. The word suspicion comes 
nearer telling her disposition, perhaps, than any other 
in the language. She has evidently been educated to 
suspect the motives of all. I learned from her com- 
plaints of her husband that they were married three 
years ago; that he married her for her money, of 
which she had several hundred dollars. They had 
lived in Bloomville until recently, when their money 
was expended and their credit gone. They then 
moved to this county, where Sister Newton found her 
with two small children and without food. She says 


THE CONTRAST. 


29 


her husband was not positively cruel to her, but has 
greatly neglected her ; he remained but a few days 
with her after placing her in her present habitation. 
I proposed to have her and her children brought in 
to-morrow and send them on the stage to Leighton-^ 
ville. She said she had no money to pay her fare. 
I then told her we would furnish the means. ‘ Well,' 
said she, ‘if some one will do so my father will send 
the amount furnished back by return mail.’ So I 
bade her be ready by noon to-morrow, and left her. 
Returning by Brother Nowlin’s, I arranged with him 
to go with his spring wagon for them. And so I am 
expecting them here by the middle of the afternoon. 
Now let us prepare for rest: it is late.” 

After breakfast the next morning Mrs. Lovelace 
and Alice set themselves to work to make the ‘ ‘ best 
room” comfortable for the reception of the expected 
company, and to have something nice for the table. 

In due time all was ready; and the thoughful wife 
crept softly to the side of her husband, as he sat in 
his cozy little study poring over some theological sub- 
ject, to ask if he thought the children were provided 
with clothing sufficiently warm to travel in. Mr. 
Lovelace was a close observer and had noticed that 
the clothing appeared comfortable. 

“But,” said he, “I can not speak for their wrap- 
ping; they will need something more than warm 
dresses to travel all day in, and they may not have it.” 

“We will see to that then,” said his wife, and left 
him to pursue his studies without further interruption. 


30 


THE CONTRAST. 


Mrs. Lovelace’s care on that score proved needless, 
however, for by two o’clock Brother Nowlin’s spirited 
horses had made the trip with ease, and she was not 
long in discovering that the wardrobe of the new 
comers was ample, although a little worn. 

She and Alice were introduced at the gate by Dea- 
con Nowlin to Mrs. Baum. They received her so 
cordially and with so much pleasure that it almost 
brought out a smile upon her rigid features. The 
little ones were carried in their arms to the bright 
fire, which soon made them as happy as the happiest. 
The good old deacon had brought them by his own 
house where a good, substantial dinner awaited them, so 
they felt no want when they arrived at the parsonage. 

During the afternoon Mrs. Lovelace attempted 
several times to draw Mrs. Baum into conversation, 
avoiding, however, any allusion to her peculiar cir- 
cumstances. In these attempts she but partially 
succeeded, the lady answering for the most part only 
in monosyllables. 

When the family gathered around the little stand 
containing the old family Bible, she looked as blank 
as if she had never witnessed such a gathering before, 
and it is more than likely she never had ; and when 
all knelt in devotion she kept her seat — not, indeed, 
as one who would show contempt by so doing, but 
rather as one in doubt as to whether she would be ex 
pected to do so or not. The next morning she ven- 
tured on her knees, perhaps for the first time in her 
life — oh, that it may not be the last ! 


THE CONTRAST. 


31 


The breakfast was early that they might be in read- 
iness for the stage. The driver had been notified to 
call at the parsonage for passengers, and at seven in 
the morning they bade farewell to the parson and his 
family. The fare consisted of a ten dollar bill which 
Deacon Nowlin had left in the hands of Mr. Love- 
lace, who, in his turn, placed it in the hands of the 
driver in the presence of Mrs. Baum. 

A few days after this occurrence Mr. Lovelace re- 
ceived the following letter from Mr. Hostell : 

‘‘Leightonville, Ky., Dec. 20, 1799. 

“Rev. Mr. Lovelace: — Enclosed find ten dollars, 
the amount paid by you for my daughter’s stage 
fare. If there are any other charges you have been 
at let me know, and I am ready to settle the bill. I 
am having trouble with my family just now. I reckon 
the devil owes me a debt and is paying me off in 
sons-in-law. One daughter left to starve among 
strangers and the other cursed through the grates of 
a prison, by unfeeling husbands, is not a very pleasant 
fix for a man of my age. I’m sure. But it’s my luck, 
I suppose, and I’ll have to stand it. So goes the 
world! Your obedient servant, sir, 

“Jack Hostell.” 

This letter was read in the presence of Mrs. Love- 
lace, who remarked as her husband finished the 
reading, “We may infer, without being informed, 
that his daughter and her children arrived in due time 
and safely.” 


32 


THE CONTRAST. 


Mr. Lovelace answered slowly : “ Yes ; and we may 
also infer that infidelity {alias Universalism) admits 
the existence of a Devil whenever it has any use for 
such a character.” 

“^he cold ingratitude manifest in the whole thing 
is as striking a feature as any thing in the letter,” said 
Mrs. Lovelace. 

“That was to be expected from such a source,” 
answered her husband. “Those who have no God 
but money never practice the Christian graces. The 
reward of the righteous is not derived from men, and 
especially from men of the world.” 

While they were thus conversing, Sister Newton 
entered with an open letter in her hand and read it. 
It, too, was from Hostell, and contained five dollars, 
to pay her, as he said, for the trouble she had been at 
with his daughter. This was more than the provisions 
furnished were really worth, and Mrs. Newton was 
unwilling to receive any thing for her trouble ; or for 
the provisions either, for that matter. But what was 
to be done? There was the money, and to return it 
would be to offer an insult to the cold, hard man who 
sent it, by making him the recipient of a charity he 
neither asked nor desired, and might expose her to 
the shafts of his unfeeling invectives. So it was de- 
cided to turn this money over to the church, for the 
benefit of the poor who might need assistance that 
winter, and here the matter ended. 

Perhaps our readers would at least thank us for some 
farther explanation of Hostell’s son-in-law, incident- 


THE CONTRAST. 


33 


ally introduced in his letter to Mr. Lovelace. With 
or without your thanks, however, it suits our purpose 
now to give such an explanation; but in doing so the 
reader will have to allow us to introduce several other 
characters, which will require another long chapter. 
3 


CHAPTER IV. 


“One daughter left to starve among strangers and 
the other cursed through the grates of a prison, by 
unfeeling husbands,” said Hostell in his letter to Eld- 
er Lovelace. It is this latter son-in-law, the “jail 
bird,” we wish now to introduce to our readers. 

A few years before the time of which we write, an 
old man had moved into the neighborhood of Leigh- 
ton ville from Alabama. He was “well to do in the 
world,” and was, therefore, thought to be quite an 
acquisition to society in that part of Kentucky. His 
eyes were as searching as an eagle’s; rugged, stal- 
wart health sat enthroned in his robust frame. He 
scanned every one who approached him with a look 
that made the timid start, as when one wakes from 
sweet dreams and finds a burglar in his chamber. 
But his eagle glance fell whenever it met an honest, 
determined eye. Some suspicioned, others praised 
and pointed him out as a specimen of nobility. Re- 
ligious people, however, were not long in finding out 
that he was fond of the low jest by which their 
principles were brought into disrepute. 


(34) 


THE CONTRAST. 


35 


His family, consisting of a wife and two grown 
sons, had a coarse affability well calculated to please 
the generality of mankind. The young men were 
fond of display. They had money and let the 
people know it. Their personal appearance was 
neat and their manners free and easy, as already inti- 
mated. The family sought neighborship with but 
few persons in the community where they lived. 
This was thought by the poorer class to be an evi- 
dence of their aristocratic turn of mind ; it served to 
heighten suspicion with others. There was one man, 
however, in the circle of their acquaintances, who 
liked them all the more as the mystery thickened 
which enshrouded them. Hostell was that man. 
They became regular visitors at the “hotel,” and 
Hostell’s son and daughters found time occasionally 
to go to the country where they enjoyed the hospi- 
tality of their new-made friends. The meetings of 
the two families were as the meetings of old and 
long-tried friends ; their greetings were always cordial, 
full, hearty. 

These young men were stock- traders. William 
T. Hostell often accompanied them in their excur- 
sions for buying and selling; sometimes, indeed, for 
wages, but as often for mere pleasure, or, as he said, 
for company. He thus became acquainted beyond 
the limits of Leightonville, and displayed a character 
which was by no means an enviable one. 

The traders generally drove their stock to Southern 
markets, and, as they offered good wages, William 


36 


THE CONTRAST. 


pushed his acquaintance thither. His employers 
found him a great convenience as a mere hand, and, 
of course, disinterested in proving the valuable qual- 
ities of almost worthless stock. They were able, by 
his assistance in that way, to drive many a good bar- 
gain with the unsuspecting planters of the South. 
It was even whispered that they blacked and wigged 
the rascal at one time and sold him as a slave, and 
that at night he washed off and proceeded to their 
place of meeting and divided with them the proceeds 
of the sale. The farmer, of course, never found his 
negro. Whether this story is true or not, the sequel 
of their lives shows that they were not wanting in 
disposition to do anything that was vile or wicked ; 
at least young Hostell and our “jail bird" were not. 

When the new comers had been in Kentucky about 
two years, there was a great gathering at the “hotel" 
one afternoon. Strangers had been arriving all day. 
In the evening guests from the more immediate vicin- 
ity began to pour in. As was to be expected, these 
guests, as far as known, were the professional gam- 
blers, horse racers gentlemen {?) of doubtful standing 
of the whole country around. The female portion 
of the company was made up entirely of the wives 
and daughters of these. 

At four o’clock in the evening a licensed magis- 
trate entered the public room, which was the largest 
one in the house, and at that time was filled almost 
to suffocation ; and in a few minutes Miss Amelia 
Hostell was declared to be Mrs. Amelia Balldus, and 


THE CONTRAST. 37 

the junior of the two young gentlemen introduced 
in this chapter, her husband. 

Old Hostell’s happiness seemed complete ; he was 
rudely hilarious. Some thought he had taken a little 
spirits, which was not at all a habit of his; but 
whether or not, he was full of enjoyment, and so 
seemed his numerous guests. The occasion was in- 
tended to display the hospitality (?), but more espe- 
cially the ability, of the house ; in this last particular 
it was a success. But few landlords and ladies of 
that day could equal, and none excel, them in fur- 
nishing a table tempting enough for an epicure. 
Their guests on the occasion of Mr. Loncord Ball- 
dus’s wedding did ample justice to all that ambition 
had prepared. 

The supper over and the tables removed from the 
long dining-room, the company was divided; the 
elder portion returning to the public room, where 
cards, and dice, and wine were in profusion, while 
the young folks took possession of the dining-room, 
where a couple of negroes ‘discoursed” sweet mu- 
sic until after midnight. The newly-married couple 
opened the ball and scarcely rested during a single 
“set.” 

The next day and night the feasting and revelry 
were continued at old Balldus’s until the dissipators 
were literally broken down. 

A few weeks were spent in idle dalliance, and then 
the common, humdrum course of married life com- 
menced, which soon degenerated into a regular cat- 


38 


THE CONTRAST. 


and-dog tussle about rights and privileges, which were 
never settled to the satisfaction of either party, but 
waxed louder and hotter as the disputants became 
more familiar with each other’s claims. 

Not long after the union of this pair an occurrence 
took place at Balldus’s which gave rise to a great 
deal of talk, and not a little suspicion of foul play. 
Walter Balldus, the elder of the two brothers, was 
taken suddenly ill, and though medical aid was se- 
cured, died the next day, without the physician 
being able to give any sort of relief, or even divining 
the nature of the disease. He had just returned 
from a trip South, where he had disposed of a lot of 
stock of which he was only a partial owner. His 
partner in the stock heard of his arrival and came to 
Balldus’s for a settlement, but reached the place a 
day or two after Walter’s death. His father and 
brother informed this gentleman that Walter had 
brought no money of consequence home with him, 
and had died without giving any information in re- 
gard to it. The family was very much distressed, as 
well on account of the derangement of his business 
concerns as his sudden demise. 

Inquiry was made by letter and otherwise, but 
without effect; the money could never be found or 
heard of. And a few months afterward, when Wal- 
ter’s partner ventured to suggest that he would like 
to have the money he had invested in the stock, they 
told him that he could not reasonably expect them to 
pay out money they had never received and knew 


THE CONTRAST. 


39 


nothing about. He told them ‘ * it looked very hard for 
him to lose all his investment when Walter's part of 
his father’s estate would amply pay it. He was will- 
ing to take simply his investment.” But he was in- 
formed that “Walter’s part of the estate had an 
imaginary existence only ; that the property was the 
old man’s ; and, as Walter died before his father had 
divided the estate and while the father yet lived, he 
(Walter) could have no legal share in the estate ; that 
so far as the loss was concerned, it was mutual ; they 
would lose all Walter had invested, and, therefore, 
their loss was equal to his.” 

Thus they consoled the man who had trusted the 
son and brother, and whose money. Madam Rumor 
said, they had under lock and key. It really appears 
too unnatural to suppose that the death of this young 
man had been plotted in his own father’s house, yet 
such was the belief of many. Whether correct or 
incorrect, the revelations of the last day will only 
make known. The parties are no more who might 
have enlightened us on this subject; but whether 
they were rightly judged or not; whether Walter 
Balldus came to his death by poison administered 
by a relative or at the instigation of such relative, or 
died of some natural disease, may admit of doubt 
and argument ; but it is not a question whether his 
father and brother dealt fairly with the man who had 
trusted him or not. This is plain. Walter had the 
marks of a business man, and, as such, never sold his 
stock “on time” to various individuals a thousand 


40 


THE CONTRAST. 


miles from home, without taking a single note or even 
keeping a memorandum. Nor does it seem reasona- 
ble, if he had, that among all his customers there 
was not one honest man who would answer frankly 
some of the many inquiries, and say, ‘ * I owe him for 
a horse or a mule.” Nor yet is the difficulty re- 
moved by the supposition that he had expressed the 
money or deposited it in some bank. He would have 
had something to show for it in either case. Yet no 
papers of any kind were ever exhibited on the sub- 
ject, and the public was left to make its own com- 
ments on the circumstances. These were sufficiently 
severe to give rise to a talk of a ‘‘coroner’s inquest” 
and post-mortem examination some weeks after the 
interment of the body; but the elder Balldus posi- 
tively refused to have the ashes of his son disturbed 
or the body mutilated. 

Hostell stood at the head of the manufactory of 
public opinion, and hence the idea was soon brought 
into disrepute and abandoned by its projectors. The 
talk gradually died away; not so the suspicion — it 
lingered where it found no expression. 

Loncord enlarged his business, and whatever else 
was thought of him, he was considered a successful 
trader. Hired hands, who assisted in driving his 
stock, generally reported him the ‘ ‘ luckiest man in 
the country,” for he seldom took a drove South but 
he met some well-dressed man who was just out of 
money and anxious to sell his horse at a sacrifice for 
means to get home on. He always accommodated 


THE CONTRAST. 


41 


these unfortunates. Some of the shrewder hands 
noticed that these “bankrupt” gentlemen usually 
found out where each hand was from before they ever 
ventured to tell the place of their residence, and 
that they never happened to be from the same sec- 
tion of country that any hand with the drove was 
from. But what of that? Would not a stranger in 
a strange land be likely to inquire where every trav- 
eler he met was from? Why, certainly; he might 
meet a semi-acquaintance in one of these. Some- 
times, indeed, the “trader” had half a knowledge of 
these men, but then a man in business was expected 
to have at least a partial knowledge of every body. 

Once a hand rallied him for taking an acquaint- 
ance’s horse for half its value. “Oh,” said he, 
“Mack has plenty of money when he gets home, 
and I had as well have his horse for nothing as any 
one else, and he was bound to sell him ; besides, he 
has been on a bust of some sort and fooled his money 
away, so he deserves no sympathy; and if he did, I 
am the wrong man to apply to for it; I never deal in 
that article. ” 

Some very old men may remember that there were 
no stables in Southern Kentucky in the early days of 
which we write that would hold a fine horse. But 
what has that to do with young Balldus’s “good luck?” 
Only this : The well-dressed men he so often met 
with on his way to distant markets, and who were 
obliged to sell their horses at such enormous sacri- 
fices, may have constituted links in the chain which 


4 ? 


THE CONTRAST. 


Stretched through most of the Gulf States to the in- 
different stables of Kentucky; and, possibly ^ one of 
the principal links in this secret chain was a certain 
“lucky trader!” Oh, how suspicious we are some- 
times! 

Two years passed after the death of Walter Ball- 
dus, when the citizens of Leightonville were startled 
‘one morning about the first of September by the 
hasty entrance into town of Loncord Balldus, who 
appeared greatly excited, and his announcement, in 
rapid phrase, that he had ‘ * shot his father — his father 
had tried to kill him — had shot at him twice, and 
that he was forced to kill him to save his own life.” 

Some of the citizens proceeded to the residence 
and found the old man dead. We have omitted to 
state that Mrs. Balldus, senior, had been dead a year 
when this occurrence took place, and that Loncord’s 
wife was at her father’s on a visit. None of the ser- 
vants were in the house at the time of the shooting. 
The father and son had slept in the same room, 
though not in the same bed. There were bullet 
holes in the wall over the bed where Loncord slept. 
A couple of empty pistols lay near the corpse, which 
was prone upon the floor. The fatal ball had taken ef- 
fect in the right lung and lodged against the spinal 
column; and its range, therefore, could have been 
accounted for as well by supposing the victim asleep 
on his back and the murderer standing at his side and 
over him at the time of the shooting, as by suppos- 
ing him on his feet and in the act of firing himself. 


THE CONTRAST. 


43 


The coroner’s jury found a verdict in accordance 
with the facts above stated. Balldus went to prison 
for a few weeks to await his trial at the fall term of 
the Circuit Court, he having waived an examining 
trial before the magistrates. It was during this im- 
prisonment that his wife, with her babe in her arms, 
visited him and was cursed by him, as old Hostell 
said to Elder Lovelace, ‘through the grates of a 
prison.” 

Shortly afterward, when arraigned at the bar of jus- 
tice, his own statements were all the evidence that 
could be obtained, and the counsel for the Common- 
wealth dismissed the prosecution. A few “of the 
baser sort” congratulated him upon his good fortune, 
while the better part of society looked upon him 
with scornful pity. 

He now appeared to be the sole heir to the Balldus 
estate ; I say he appeared to be, for it was not alto- 
gether certain that he was so. Two facts came to 
light about this time which went far toward fixing in 
the public mind the idea that there was another heir, 
and that the family lived in Kentucky under an as- 
sumed name. These are the facts referred to. The 
postmaster had often noticed letters directed to Wm. 
Hawkland, Jacksonport, Alabama, in the hand-writing 
of Balldus, and on one occasion, finding a letter not di- 
rected at all, he opened it and found it addressed to this 
individual as Brother William and signed L. Balldus. 

The other fact was this : An open letter was 
picked up in the street directed to L. Balldus, in 


44 


THE CONTRAST. 


which he was addressed as Brother Loncord, and 
signed Wm. Hawkland. This letter was postmarked 
Jacksonport, Alabama. The people, however, were 
not long left to reason from these facts and circum- 
stances to a conclusion on the subject. The tragical 
death of old Balldus had found its way into all the 
newspapers of the South. The people of Alabama 
read the account given of it with as little thought of 
his being one of their own whilom citizens as if he 
had never lived among them. Not so, however, with 
Wm. Hawkland ; he read the paragraph with strained 
eyes and aching heart, for well he knew the victim 
was his own father, and the actor in the dreadful 
drama his own brother! But how far that brother 
was justifiable he had no means of deciding. The 
name “Balldus” he knew to be the assumed name of 
that part of the family which had fled to Kentucky; 
the place, “ Leigh tonville, ” was their post office ; the 
mother dead a year; the wife of the parricide at her 
father’s in Leightonville at the time — all went to con- 
firm the dreadful idea in his mind — “a father slain by 
a brother’s hand.” He read and re-read, and was 
convinced ; no doubt remained. But that the posses- 
sion of the father’s property had been the inducement 
to murder him never entered William’s head. He^ 
therefore, started in a few weeks to Kentucky to as- 
sist in the settlement of the business, and to divide 
the estate with his brother Loncord, never dreaming 
of the denial of his claims to fellow-heirship, or the 
tragical end to which those claims were to lead. 


THE CONTRAST. 


45 


Judge then of his surprise, upon his arrival, at not 
being recognized by his brother, even as an acquaint- 
ance. Being the oldest child, he had nursed Loncord 
in infancy, played with him in youth, assisted him in 
school, and lived with him under the same roof until 
about four years previous to this meeting — why should 
he not be surprised at the reception he met- with? 
He had met Loncord, by previous arrangement, the 
year before in North Georgia and bought horses of 
him. He was then known without any difficulty. 
But the w’hole truth now flashed upon his mind. His 
brother had murdered his father in cold blood for his 
property, and it was not to be expected that he would 
scruple at denying a brother to retain possession of 
what he had gained at such a price. 

There was no longer any necessity for keeping the 
family secret. Over four years it had been kept sacred 
by each member of the family, but it was now no 
longer of service. He for whom it had been a secret 
had paid the terrible debt; and now William felt that 
it was his duty, as well as a necessity, to divulge it. 
He therefore proceeded to the Clerk’s office and insti- 
tuted suit for his part of his father’s property, stating 
in his plea ‘ ' that his father, William Hawkland, Sen. , 
alias William Balldus, had killed a man in Alabama, 
for which he fled to Kentucky, and in order the better 
to conceal his crime and avoid detection, had changed 
his name from Hawkland to Balldus ; that he was 
named for his father, William ; that he was William 
Hawkland’s oldest child ; that he was born in holy 


46 


THE CONTRAST. 


wedlock, and was, therefore, a legal heir to the estate 
of William Hawkland, alias William Balldus, and 
prayed the court to award him the portion of goods 
which legally fell to him as such heir.” 

Having filed his suit and left its management in the 
hands of a competent attorney, he returned to his 
southern home. When Loncord heard what was 
done he was furious, and threatening to take his life, 
called him a slanderer of his father and a regular villain. 
William’s attorney immediately wrote to him to be on 
his guard ; that his life was threatened, and the whole 
community believed his brother would execute the 
threat; that they were no longer in doubt regarding 
Loncord’s unqualified guilt in the parricide. Old 
Hostell could no longer direct the public sentiment, 
if, indeed, he had any disposition to do so. He fell 
into the current, and was as loud in his denunciations 
as any one in the village. Meanwhile young Balldus, 
alias Hawkland, disappeared, no one knew just when 
or how or where. A few weeks passed, and his wife 
brought suit for a divorce, the restoration of her 
maiden name and a support. 

Mr. Francis (the partner in the drove of horses 
which Walter Balldus sold a short time before his 
death) also sued for the means he had invested in said 
stock, and the legal interest on the same from the 
time Walter received the drove into his possession. 

It was a fat time for lawyers. The whole bar of 
Leightonville and neighboring counties were eager 
for the fray, or, rather, for the spoils. Some of them 


THE CONTRAST. 


47 


entered for the defense, simply that they might have 
some sort of claim against the estate; others entered the 
lists in behalf of the unknown heirs, for the same rea- 
son ; while those really employed by William and 
Loncord Hawkland took their favorites into partner- 
ship with them in the management of their part of the 
legal farce. Among so many it was easy to find means 
by which to delay the trial of these several causes from 
court to court for years. Neither the heirs already 
mentioned nor the unknown heirs” ever put in an 
appearance. Time, which unravels so many intricate 
questions, appeared unwilling to throw any light on 
this. Estates, however large, will not last forever 
with half-a dozen hungry lawyers feeding upon them. 
This one was no exception to the rule. It had been 
apparent from the first that Francis would get his 
money, if there were no other successful litigants in 
the case. Attorneys are usually close calculators. In 
this case they balanced accounts so nicely that the 
widow (yes, widow she proved to be) only got about 
six hundred dollars, when her suit for ' ' divorce, sup- 
port, etc.” was finally decided in her favor. Each 
*‘limb of the law” had kept a correct invoice of all 
the valuables, and, when they saw there was no longer 
a living in delay, the suits were all decided against the 
unknown heirs of Balldus, alias Hawkland. 

In the final trial of this complicated cause, it ap- 
peared that Loncord had left Kentucky a few days 
after his brother William had instituted suit for his 
part of his father’s property. William, apprised by 


48 


THE CONTRAST. 


his attorney of his danger, kept a sharp lookout for 
his appearance in Alabama, and soon learned that he 
was secretly prowling in his neighborhood. He there- 
fore collected some friends together and commenced 
a search in the woods near his own premises, naturally 
supposing that, if Loncord really had any designs 
against his life, he would attempt their execution from 
some covert while he was unsuspectingly attending to 
his farm work. 

In this he seems to have judged rightly, for he and 
his posse had not searched long before they came upon 
the object of their search, concealed in a clump of 
pines near a field of William’s where work was going 
on at the time. It happened that they discovered 
him when he was off his guard, evidently not aware 
of the approach of men until William had covered him 
with his rifle and called his name. He was completely 
surprised, and, seeing at a glance that he was in the 
power and at the mercy of his antagonist, he threw 
up his hands and called out: ‘‘Oh, Brother William, 
don’t shoot me! ” His brother immediately lowered 
his gun and turned, apparently to walk away, when 
one of his companions called out: “Look, William, 
he’s going to shoot you!” William wheeled, but it 
was too late. The deadly missile ploughed through 
his breast. He reeled ; but, recovering his balance 
again, raised his gun, took quick aim and fired. The 
two brothers fell at the same moment and expired on 
the turf without speaking. 

Thus ended one of the most singular and wicked 


THE CONTRAST. 


49 


tragedies upon record. Thus perished from off the 
face of the earth a family of fratricides. 

It may not be unacceptable to the reader, while we 
are on the subject of sons-in-law, for us to state that 
the deserted wife" had married a bar-keeper in an 
adjoining county, who was thought to be in good cir- 
cumstances. He “ failed in business, " as the world 
calls it, shortly after his mJ|||iiage and Hostell had 
furnished him with a few nrmdred dollars to begin 
anew with, but he thought it easier to live on the 
money than to stand from sunrise to ten o’clock at 
night mixing sugar and whisky. He was soon out of 
means again, and after straining his credit as severely 
as his neighbors would permit, he moved off without 
telling any one where he was going. We have in- 
formed our readers in a former chapter of the where- 
abouts of his family, and of their situation when found 
by Elder Lovelace. We shall have occasion to look 
him up again, after we have attended to some other 
matters. And before we leave his wife for the present 
we v/ill inform our readers that her first impressions 
were not received in and around the ‘ * grocery." The 
first seven years of her life (after leaving her mother’s 
knee) were spent in the shop of a wood-workman. 
Here she had amused herself for hours together with 
the long, curling shavings, as they fell from her father’s 
plane; and with the many-sided blocks for building 
material had erected many a splendid dwelling for her 
■dolls. Here, too, she had come in contact with hon- 
est and respectable people, who came to buy the 
4 


50 


THE CONTRAST. 


articles of her father's manufacture. As first impres- 
sions are said to be most lasting, we may hope for 
some favorable turn in the life of Mrs. Joanna Baum, 
the ‘‘deserted wife.” 

The “love of money” being the ruling passion with 
Hostell, he had grown impatient of the slow profits 
of an honest trade, and left it for the more lucrative 
business of selling drag||, notwithstanding its more 
questionable reputation^ In his new calling he could 
not have chosen his associates or his children’s if he 
had been ever so much inclined to do so. Men and 
women instinctively shrink from associating with the 
dram-seller, and it is not until they are schooled in 
some one of the institutions of vice that they ever 
consent to stoop so low. The good and virtuous may 
sink themselves to his level, but can never raise him 
to theirs* 


CHAPTER V. 


We left Westerfield Gipson in the Leighton ville 
Academy diligently prosecuting his studies. Let us 
move his history a little forward. I care not to men- 
tion anything in his academic course not already 
related, until his last day in that institution. It was 
the 4th of July, 1800. Our fathers used to celebrate 
the day of our national independence with a grand 
school exhibition occasionally. Twas no bad idea. 
Schools were then taught by the quarter, and not by 
the session. It took six months, instead of five, to 
get a half year’s tuition. This would naturally close 
the schools about the 4th of July, after deducting the 
usual holidays. So it was on this day that the Leigh- 
tonville school closed its work. The examination of 
the classes had passed, and well had the pupils ac- 
quitted themselves in every branch of study. The 
fathers and mothers of the place felt that their chil- 
dren had received the worth of the money paid the 
village pedagogue. None of the patrons of the 
school, however, were better pleased than were Mr. and 
Mrs. Gipson ; their children had taken the first hon- 

(51) 


52 


THE CONTRAST. 


ors. Not a scholar complained of this; all confessed 
the justice of the award. So unassuming, and withal 
so kind to every school-mate, were these Gipson 
children, that all loved them; and w'here all loved 
there were none to envy or hate. And when the 
teacher fastened a bright silver star on the left 
shoulders of six noble-looking youths, as the reward 
of merit, and then turning to Westerfield, placed one 
as large of beaten gold on his, his class-mates first 
cried out in raptures, “He deser\^es it — three cheers 
for young Gipson!” and then the whole crowd joined 
in the joyous huzza.” Westerfield blushed like a 
timid girl. Large tears started in his father’s eyes. 
His sisters met him with extended arms, and he was 
not ashamed of their loving embraces. He had never 
known a brother’s love, but he felt that a sister’s was 
dearer. 

The teacher had known for weeks before that Wes- 
terfield had no competitor for the gold medal, and he 
had therefore assigned him the duty of pronouncing 
the valedictory. These addresses, like all the rest, 
were usually mere declamations ; but when the post 
of valedictorian was assigned to young Gipson, he 
requested the privilege of making it original. He 
also wished his subject kept a secret between himself 
and teacher; in all of which he was allowed to have 
his own way. Westerfield was fond of a surprise. 
He had conceived the idea of surprising the congre- 
gation that might assemble with a theme entirely new. 

The morning of the fourth dawned on the citizens 


THE CONTRAST. 


53 


of Leightonville and the surrounding country clear as 
the limpid streams that watered their fertile valleys. 
The sun rose without a cloud to hide ‘‘the sweet 
blushes of the morn.’* At an early hour the people 
began to arrive. The town was all astir. The pa- 
trons of the school were there. The lovers of liber- 
ty turned out because it was the “glorious fourth.” 
The epicure was on hand, for a grand “barbecue” 
upon the village green promised substantial pleasure 
when the “day’s work was done.” Curiosity-seekers 
came to “see what was to be seen,” and idlers came 
because they had nowhere else to go. Young men 
and maidens were there in their Sunday suits ; these 
to see their lovers and those their ‘ ‘ bright, particular 
stars.” A sprinkle of soldiers from the “army of 
the immortal patriots” were there, with the scars and 
accoutrements of war upon their persons. The coun- 
try for miles around was literally emptied of inhabi- 
tants. Faithful watchdogs held undivided and un- 
challenged possession of their owners’ premises. The 
academy building was a world too small that day; but 
the thoughtful villagers had prepared a stage and seats 
in the grove near by, where all could see and hear. 

Happy the occasion, and happy the gathering 
crowd! For an hour before the appointed time for 
commencing the exercises, crowds were gathered in 
knots about the street corners, and wondering “where 
the speaking was to be,” and talking of a thousand 
different things. At half past nine o’clock a signal 
gun was fired from the hill just back of the school 


54 


THE CONTRAST. 


building, and from out its smoke the ‘‘stars and 
stripes,” run up a hundred feet, were caught by a 
gentle breeze, when out floated the American eagle, 
“holding in his beak the olive branch of peace, and 
in his talons the fiery thunderbolts of war.” All 
eyes were fixed on the beautiful emblem. No one 
asked again where the speaking was to be ; all knew. 
Thither they took their way. And now the strains 
of martial music quickened the steps of tottery old 
age and hurried youth into a run. Old soldiers threw 
their hats into the air, and falling involuntarily into 
line, marched as of old to the music of 

“Sons of Freedom, hail !” 

A patriotic song was beautifully sung by the female 
pupils, and then declamations, orations and rustic 
tragedies by the young men enlivened the occasion. 

The old teacher understood human nature pretty 
well. He had thence arranged to have the speeches 
follow each other in the order of their merit and the 
effect they were likely to produce upon the audience, 
Thus the dullest ear was open to every articulated 
sound when Westerfield rose to pronounce the farewell 
address to the school, and expectation was on tiptoe. 
The glittering medal on his shoulder told the audience 
at a glance that he had taken the first honors of the 
school, and the regular rise from very good to better in 
the preceding addresses, naturally led all to expect 
the best in this last. The young man felt it ; and when 
he was called to the stand and all eyes were turned 
upon him, though he walked forward with a firm step. 


THE CONTRAST. 


55 


the color which usually mounted to his temples had 
receded, and an ashy whiteness mantled for a moment 
his noble features. The riveted gaze of that vast 
crowd and the confident look of his sisters reassured 
him. As he bowed low, involuntarily placing his 
hand on his palpitating heart, the blood rushed back 
to the surface, and when he stood erect again the 
ruddy youth had reappeared. He commenced: 

“ Ladies and Gentlemen: We celebrate to-day the 
anniversary of our national independence — the birth- 
day of American liberty. It is a suitable occasion for 
an assemblage like this. These young men and 
maidens were unworthy of their noble lineage if their 
hearts did not swell with patriotic pride at the very 
mention of Independence Day; these fathers unworthy 
of the trust committed to their hands, were they to 
fail to remind us, their children, by their presence and 
their cheer, of all the hallowed memories that cluster 
around this day. With its annual return comes the 
recollection of the oppressor’s heel, in wicked at- 
tempts to crush out the life of liberty in the New 
World ; to quench its fires in the blood of its martyred 
dead, and build above their * moldering urns, ’ all un- 
marked and unhonored, thrones for the scions of 
royalty. The country sees again, on these festive 
occasions, her sons, our noble sires, exchanging the 
peaceful pursuits of agricuture for the dangers and 
hardships of war ; while our mothers (Heaven bless 
the women of ’76!) lay aside the distaff to fill their 
places in the fields. It is not fancy, but enduring 


THE CONTRAST. 


56 

memory that follows these patriotic bands through 
the snows of winter and the rains of summer — in 
hunger and nakedness, 'faint, yet pursuing;* yes,, 
pursuing the star of their hope, the nymph of their 
love. Like the intrepid Marion, each soldier of that 
period was a lover. The beardless boy of sixteen, 
the strong man of forty and the grey-haired sire of 
sixty were alike ravished with the charms of her 
angelic beauty. Slandered and persecuted in the Old 
World, she had fled to the wilds of America for safety. 
Thither her lovers had followed — happy if they might 
live in the same country where she lived, or dying die in 
her embraces. The men of the Revolution had caught 
a glimpse of her on the Green Mountains of Vermont; 
had heard her silvery voice in the valleys of Virginia, 
and recognized her spotless robes in the Carolinas; and 
were so enamored of her charms that they were ready, 
aye, even anxious to meet the British Lion in mortal 
combat in her defense. Nor were our mothers jealous 
of her. They spake in her praise, as they buckled 
the armor of their country upon their husbands, 
brothers and sons. Matrons gently hushed the crying 
of their infants with sweet lullabies that eulogized 
her graces. All, all worshipped at the shrine of the 
heaven-born beauty with idolatrous love, and called 
her by the sweet name of Liberty! We are again 
transported back to the time that ‘tried men’s souls,* 
and in memory we follow the war-path of the patriots 
from Lexington to Yorktown. With these old sol- 
diers and their war-battered firelocks to aid us, we 


THE CONTRAST. 


57 


^ fight those battles o’er’ upon the issues of which 
once depended a nation’s life. When the retrospect 
reveals a temporary defeat, we anxiously sympathize 
with the patriotic band, and involuntarily appeal to 
the God of battles to turn the tide of war! In all 
their struggles we bear a part, and in their victories 
we rejoice! Thus we live over again, in a few short 
hours, those eight years that once wore away so tar- 
dily. Those years of trial are past — the day of triumph 
comes. Our fathers have crossed the Red Sea of 
blood ; the Tories, those fiery serpents of the wilder- 
ness, are trodden under patriotic feet ; the cohorts of 
England are vanquished, and the Red Lion, fierce 
emblem of her power, skulks away to his Island home 
as the lordly Cornwallis delivers his sword to the 
planter of Old Virginia, and the eagles of the Republic 
rise in glory over the hills of Yorktown. The nation 
is alive with joy. In the village and the city the church 
bells ring in joyous peals ; delighted couriers ‘ ride on 
swift horses’ to tell the glorious news; each inhabitant 
of the land catches the ‘flying joy* and makes the 
welkin ring. Mothers, wives and sisters weep and 
laugh in sweet anticipation of husbands, brothers and 
sons returning to homes and hearts where they may 
rest and enjoy the ‘prize their valor won.’ Are we 
as a nation to enjoy forever this glorious prize, these 
halcyon days? Fain would I hope that, profiting by 
the history of the past, we might practise what we 
have only learned in theory — that eternal vigilance is 
the price of liberty. It has been said that an intelli- 


58 


THE CONTRAST. 


gent and virtuous people can never be enslaved ; but 
learning, wealth, commerce and heroism without virtue 
can never perpetuate the free institutions of a nation. 

“We shall have taken the first fearful step in the 
downward course when we shall no longer prize the 
public morals above rubies, learning or heroic valor. 
Egypt once had all these, but the sins of her sons 
cried to heaven for vengeance; and two thousand 
years have dragged their slow length along’ since 
Egypt bowed her neck to the yoke of servitude, and 
received her master from ‘ Babylon, the beauty of 
the Chaldee’s excellency. ’ The Persians, the Mace- 
donians, the Romans, the Saracens, the Mamelukes 
and the Turks have each in their turn ruled her with 
a rod of iron. Among all her sons in sixty genera- 
tions there have been none to break her shackles and 
bid her rise once more to the glories of the past. 
To-day the proud Ottoman spreads the weeds of wid- 
owhood over the * land once shadowing with wings, ’ 
and holds her children in helpless and hopeless or- 
phanage. God wills it so. Her sins were her ruin. 
Shall we profit by her judgments, or walk in her ways 
and partake of her plagues? 

‘ ‘ Immense caravans once poured the wealth of India 
into ‘Tadmor in the wilderness,’ until the splendor 
of her riches excited the cupidity of Marc Antony ; 
and when he would have enriched the soldiery of 
Rome from her coffers, her heroism was equal to her 
wealth. But where is Palmyra now? An insignifi- 
cant village of two thousand inhabitants in the Syrian 


THE CONTRAST. 59 

desert is all that remains of her learning, wealth, com- 
merce and heroism. 

‘‘All these are ‘ trifles light as air,’ when laid in the 
balances against virtue. Let us learn wisdom from 
the records of the past. Time would fail me were I 
to speak of Greece and Rome as illustrious examples 
of the unvarying truth that nothing will compensate 
for the loss of virtue in a nation ; nothing stay the 
hand of desolation where the public morals are cor- 
rupted. 

“Fellow students, we are presently to take the part- 
ing hand. From the busy scenes of school life we 
go, after a few days of recreation, to the busy scenes 
of real life ; from the pleasant associations of the acad- 
emy to the rough toils of the world. There are, 
presently, responsibilities to fall on each of us, to 
which we have hitherto been strangers. Before us 
lies the future of our country. Soon we are to be- 
come the custodians of that liberty won for us at 
such a price ! Shall we prove recreant to the trust? — 
forbid it Heaven! Or shall we prove ourselves the 
worthy sons of noble sires? Let us not fondly 
dream that all our enemies are put to flight! Their 
name is legion still. Nor should we be looking across 
the ocean for an enemy till some insidious foe shall 
levy taxes upon us ‘grievous to be borne.’ We have 
nothing to fear from abroad. The valor and endur- 
ance of our citizen soldiery have taught the outside 
world to be at peace with us. 

“ Henceforth we shall find our most dangerous ene- 


THE CONTRAST. 


6q 

mies among ourselves; and, as coming events are said to 
‘ cast their shadows before, ’ so the ghostly shadow of 
a mighty foe has already fallen athwart our land. Ah ! 
indeed, the shadow is not all. His footprints are seen 
and his power is felt in every town and hamlet in these 
sovereign states. These old soldiers once left their 
homes to fight a people who would have us pay a few 
thousand dollars on tea and other articles (‘Yes, and 
we’ll do it again! ’ cried the old veterans). But a foe 
is now among us who is causing us to pay many, many 
thousands for the maintenance of his court and high 
dignitaries ; and, what is infinitely worse than the tax 
he levies upon us, he is spreading disease and misery 
and death all over the land. Strong men, under his 
seductive influence, bow down in chains of servitude 
and abandon themselves to the slavery he imposes. 
Under his mighty hand, fair women wrap themselves 
in the weeds of widowhood, and helpless innocents, 
despoiled of their birthright, put on the rags of orphan- 
age, and look to the future without a gleam of hope 
to clothe in beauty the skies above them. Already, 
the men that are held in his interest and his pay sit 
in high places and make the laws that govern us, 
and execute those laws upon us. A mortal foe to us 
and our institutions, he comes among us in the guise 
of a friend. ‘The words of his mouth are smooth- 
er than butter, but war is in his heart; his words 
are softer than oil, yet are they drawn swords.* 
Would that I could drag him from his hiding place 
and show you all his deformity ! Then, indeed, might 


THE CONTRAST. 


6l 


we hope for the perpetuation of our liberties and pros- 
perity ; but while an enemy so powerful is allowed the 
freedom of our towns and cities, with none to oppose 
his destructive march, * hope wings its way from the 
earth to the skies. ’ Do you ask me for the name of 
the tyrant? I answer, Intemperance! Some of you 
smile. Be it so ; you are not the first, by many, who 
have smiled on the verge of ruin. It takes no great 
stretch of the imagination to picture the voluptuous 
inhabitants of Herculaneum and Pompeii, wreathed in 
smiles and filled with pleasure, while the sleeping 
Vesuvius towered above their heads and trembled 
beneath their feet. They as little dreamed of the 
impending ruin that awaited them as you do that 
intemperance will, if not checked in its onward rush, 
undermine the fair temple of our liberties. The 
proudest and most powerful empires of antiquity suc- 
cumbed under its seductive influence. Nebuchadnezar 
made Babylon ‘ the beauty of the Chaldees’ excellen- 
cy, ’ so that inspiration tells us that ^ wheresoever the 
children of men dwell, the beasts of the field and the 
fowls of the heaven hath He given into thy hand 
and hath made thee ruler over them all.’ But all this 
wealth, power and greatness were ‘ given to the Medes 
and Persians,’ when his profligate son ‘drank wine 
and feasted with a thousand of his lords. ’ The same 
night of his drunken revel ‘ he was slain, and Darius 
the Medean took the kingdom.’ Philip of Macedon 
laid deep and broad the foundations of an empire that 
has given his name to posterity as the master spirit 


62 


THE CONTRAST. 


of the age in which he lived. His son prosecuted the 
ambitious designs of his father until not only the whole 
of Greece, but Persia, Egypt and many other countries 
submitted to the conqueror whose name for two thou- 
sand years has been the synonym of irresistible con- 
quest. But his vast dominions were left without a 
ruler when Alexander had scarcely reached the per- 
fection of manhood. Intemperance conquered the 
conqueror, and Alexander died at Babylon in a 
drunken debauch, when he had reigned but thirteen 
years. Tell me not that intemperance can never de- 
stroy a nation ; there are too many examples in the 
past to contradict the flattering lie. But suppose our 
free institutions are in no danger from this source. 
It is a maxim of English law, that when you injure 
the meanest citizen you injure and insult the Com- 
monwealth. If this is true in England, it is true 
every where ; and I ask, in the name of all that’s dear 
to you, if you intend to do less for the protection of 
your fellow citizens than the oppressive governments 
of the Old World do for their vassals? If such is your 
determination, I can only say in the language of King 
David : ‘ Tell it not in Gath ; publish it not in the 
streets of Askelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines 
rejoice ! ’ May we not hope that a nation that was sa 
prompt to meet an enemy that crossed the ocean to 
oppress us, will be as prompt to punish a foe that lurks 
among us? 

“That such an enemy lives among us and upon us, 
surely does not lessen his crimes. Satan in Eden 


THE CONTRAST. 


63 


is Satan still. An enemy among us, and of us, is an 
enemy still. Who can contemplate, for a moment, 
the evils of intemperance, and not recognize in it a 
most inveterate foe to our country and our race? Do 
any ask, ‘ why, what evil hath he done }' In answer to 
such a query, how and where shall I begin ? Shall I 
point out the young mother of your acquaintance 
who weeps at the cradle of her first-born, which has 
never known the fond embrace of a father? And 
shall I tell you that only one short year before that 
father led the mother, then a happy girl, to Hymen’s 
bar, in love and joy and pride, and promised to love 
and protect her through life? And shall I describe 
his rapid fall ? Shall I tell you how soon that solemn 
promise was forgotten, the wife neglected, and the 
love he lavished on the blushing bride drowned in the 
convivial bowl? Shall I follow his downward path- 
way to that fatal night when he was brought home 
from the grocery all bloody, and cold in death, and 
laid in the cozy little chamber where the faithful wife, 
with weary, sad heart, had waited his coming? or of 
the shock that heart received? of the mournful pro- 
cession that followed him to the grave the next 
day? Shall I tell you of the weary nights of watch- 
ing by the stricken one until life and health were 
coaxed back again, and she went forth to feel more 
deeply her irreparable loss, and to brood over the 
misfortune of her innocent babe, who must bear the 
disgrace, as it did the image, of ‘ the loved and the 
lost?' I ask you, my hearers, to look on the weeds 


'64 


THE CONTRAST. 


of her mourning, the emblems of her soul’s deep 
sufferings, and answer at the bar of your conscience, 
if there is not among us an enemy more cruel than 
the grave ? Is there one here so hard that he can 
look into that sad face — into those tear-dimmed eyes, 
and say, ‘ Intemperance never wronged you T I know 
that human nature is all depraved, but there is a de- 
pravity in such a thought as that that Beelzebub 
would blush to own ! And yet our actions, or rather 
our apathy, is saying, in unmistakable terms, to her 
and the thousands like her who fill the land with 
mourning, that intemperance never wronged them! 
God helping me, my skirts shall henceforth be clear 
in this regard. 

‘‘My friends, the case I have attempted to de- 
scribe, duplicated a thousand times, tells not the half 
of the evils done by this common enemy of our race. 
When was there a trial for manslaughter, in this or 
an adjoining county, that the testimony has not re- 
vealed the fact that the killing took place at a dram 
shop, while one or both of the parties were under the 
direct influence of intoxicating drinks? Where has 
there been a murder committed that the perpetrator 
did not school himself for the deed at the drinking 
house, and whet his fiendish passions with potations 
from the infuriating bowl? Did you ever hear of a 
burglar, a highwayman or a horse thief who did not 
take his first lessons in some bacchanalian den? The 
truth is, nine-tenths of all the crimes committed 
against the state are directly traceable to the use of 


THE CONTRAST. 


65 


ardent spirits as a beverage. Without its use few in- 
deed could be induced to enter upon a course of 
crime and infamy, and fewer still could be induced to 
continue in such a course. To you, who are fathers, 
I appeal for help to rid the land of such a foe ! Who 
among you can feel that your sons are safe when the 
enemy is lurking in the secret dens of the village and 
the city; when he is mustering his fierce legions in 
all the highways and at every cross road in the coun- 
try? -What but a miracle of grace can save them 
when the tempter, in many instances (I blush to speak 
it), is woman. The * majestic sweetness ’ of her being, 
the gentleness of her nature, the witchery of her 
smiles, the soft music of her voice and the love-light 
in her eyes have all conspired to give her a power 
over man, for good or evil as she will, that is almost 
irresistible. From the moment the first woman sprang 
from the side of Adam, as Minerva from the brain of 
Jupiter, and stood a blushing bride amid the roses of 
Eden, to this hour, she has led Ae sterner sex a will- 
ing captive in the silken meshesfcjftier beauty, which 
his idolatry strengthens into cablS^ of brass. 

*‘With such an influence on the side of the com- 
mon enemy, who is safe? With such a tempter in 
his interest, Satan may plan new conquests and move 
in victorious triumph through a thousand Edens. 
But may I not appeal, in the name of humanity, to 
those mothers, wives and sisters to give us that mighty 
power with which the kind Creator has endowed them 
to aid in breaking the terrible spell of intemperance ? 
5 


66 


THE CONTRAST. 


Only cheer us on by your approving smiles, and we 
shall do valiantly; ah, we will wrench the scepter 
from the hand of Bacchus and tear the laurels from his 
brow, and lay them as trophies at your feet ! 

‘ ‘ I have done. But how can I say farewell when 
there are so many who will strive to make you fare ill? 
We shall not all meet again until we meet at the bar 
of God. How many of my fellow students and of this 
audience will give me their hand as a solemn pledge 
never to use ardent spirits as a beverage?” 

The larger students and many from the congregation 
rushed forward with extended hands and weeping 
eyes. Some embraced the speaker, while sobs and 
stifled cries testified the depth of their feeling and the 
honesty of their purpose. After a few touching re- 
marks by the old teacher, the crowd dispersed. 
Many of the well-disposed congratulated the Gipson 
family on the success of the son and brother. 

A few weeks of rest from the toils of the school- 
room, spent in inn^^t pleasures, useful employment 
and endearing ass«rftions, brought around the day 
for Westerfield to leave his home for college. The 
night he was to start, when the hour of family prayer 
arrived, Mr. Gipson read a portion of the 2nd chap- 
ter of Proverbs and a part of the 7th of Matthew ; 
then kneeling he prayed that God would be father to 
his boy and keep him from the evil ; that he would 
give him repentance toward God and faith in our Lord 
Jesus Christ, and that he might become a useful 
member of the church. And this prayer was so fdr- 


THE CONTRAST. 


67 


vent that Westerfield felt it, and inwardly resolved to 
seek that religion which so adorned the life of his 
parents. The family all sat up until the stage horn 
announced the time of departure. Westerfield rose, 
and taking an affectionate leave of each, and promising 
to write soon, mounted the stage and was off for 
Georgetown. 


CHAPTER VI. 


‘‘Can I get a drink, sir, if you please?” 

The speaker was a well-dressed traveler, who had 
alighted at the hotel in Leightonville and, after seeing 
his horse cared for, had entered the “ grocery,” alias 
bar-room, of which we have already had occasion to 
speak. 

“Oh, yes,” said William Tourney, adjusting him- 
self to the decanter-stand. ‘ ‘ What will you have, sir ?” 

“Water, pure water,” was the traveler’s reply. 

“Humph!” grunted the young bar-tender, and 
pointing to a cedar can outside of the counter, said : 
“There it is.” 

The stranger took a full draught of the delicious 
liquor, and then remarked : “I never use any thing 
as a beverage but cold water. Our Creator has kind- 
ly furnished us with a bountiful supply of it, and I 
find I need nothing more, as I can certainly find 
nothing better.” 

“ I don’t know how good it is, as I am not in the 
habit of using it alone,” spitefully retorted the young 
man behind the counter. 


( 68 ) 


THE CONTRAST. 


69 


“That’s my hand exactly,” put in a fellow who 
had the appearance of a traveler, and had, from the 
time our cold water friend entered, been a mere 
“looker-on in Venice.” He was a man of good gen- 
eral appearance, but there was something repellent in 
his countenance and his physiognomy indicated a 
venom seldom surpassed by vipers or rattlesnakes. 
He had been a frequent caller at Hostell’s for a year 
or two. No one in Leightonville knew where he 
lived, though the whole town knew the man by sight. 
Sometimes he was thought to be a lawyer, on his way 
to some distant court, and at others the citizens judged 
he must be connected with some patent medicine 
house, as he always called at Hostell’s, where these 
commodities were kept. Could they have been con- 
cealed in the “grocery,” an hour or two after the 
event we have related in the opening of this chapter, 
they might have learned enough about him to satisfy 
their curiosity. 

The abstemious traveler had registered his nam^in 
a bold, open hand, as J. S. Foot, from Nash\:ile, 
Tenn. ; destiny, Frankfort, Ky. After dispatching 
his dinner, he proceeded on his journey. 

Spring of the year was just opening in blooming 
beauty, and the bar-room at Hostell’s was not fre- 
quented at that season till late in the afternoon. Mr. 
Blatant (the other caller referred to) therefore had 
William Tourney all to himself during the two hours 
following the departure of Foot. Suppose we place 
an open ear to the “hole in the wall,” and, for the 


70 


THE CONTRAST. 


sake of the outside world, and especially the honest 
part of it, ascertain what is interesting the twain so 
intently. 

‘‘William, I have long had my eye on you as a 
very suitable person for a business that I am exten- 
sively engaged in, and which I think you can make 
very profitable to yourself." 

These are the first sounds we catch through the 
“hole in the wall.^’ 'Twas Blatant speaking and, at 
the same time, eying the young man addressed to see 
what effect the word “profitable" would have on him. 
He saw at once that he had struck the key-note in 
the tune of that wretched boy’s life ; and he knew but 
too well how to bring out every other, so as to make 
for young Hostell’s ear the sweetest music that ever 
greeted it. 

“ And what ‘ business’ do you propose? — I am all 
attention," said William. 

“ Well," continued the tempter, “ before I disclose 
th^matter to you fully, you have to promise the 
sd^test secresy." 

“ Oh, if there is money in it, you need have no 
fear of me ! I know how to keep my tongue in my 
mouth, when there is any thing to be made by it," 
was the reply. 

“ I will now inform you, that if you ever even tell 
that I have had this interview with you, your life is 
the forfeit. If you divulge it, you are as likely to do 
so in the presence of one engaged in the business, or 
even to one of them, as to any one else ; and, conse- 


THE CONTRAST. 


71 


.quently, any revelation that you may make will be 
known to all the fraternity in a few days, and some 
one of them will put a stop to the information you 
give with a little powder and lead.” 

Thus spake the villain, and thus William replied : 

** Never fear for me. I almost feel like I was one 
of you. Let me know all about it.” 

The very secresy, and the implied rascality of the 
‘‘business,” had a charm for William that led him 
eagerly on to ruin. Thus assured. Blatant felt that 
his game was already bagged, and proceeded to lay 
bare his business. Drawing a little closer to William 
Tourney, he thus began : 

“We have formed a sort of fraternity to protect 
and assist each other against all outsiders, in any and 
every way we can; and when any one of the 
company gets into trouble, each and every member 
is bound by the laws of our order to get him out. 
If it takes swearing in court, we do it; and if it takes 
fighting, we do that. We break jails, when necessary, 
or furnish the inmates with means of escape. If 
money is needed, to buy a jailer, a judge or a jury- 
man, we have it in abundance. In a word, we insure 
our members against all the rigors of the law. The 
business we are engaged in is the making and passing 
of counterfeit money. And now, Mr. Hostell, you 
understand enough about it to make your election in 
. the case. We will furnish you with all the money 
you can pass, and give you half you make out of it. 

. What have you to say? ” 


72 


THE CONTRAST. 


“I say rd like the profits exceedingly, but suppose 
a fellow is caught by some officious meddler in other 
men’s matters, what is to become of him?” said Wil- 
liam, in reply. 

“Well, let me explain matters in detail. I have 
already told you that each member of the company 
is bound to do all he can for any other member who 
may need his assistance. Now, suppose you should 
pass a five or ten dollar bill, and it should be brought 
back as counterfeit ; you have only to redeem it with 
good money and say you know whom you got it of, 
and that you will make him take it back ; and nine 
times out of ten that will be the end of it. But sup- 
pose some one wants to know of whom you received 
it ; how easy is it for you to tell him that you got it 
from me or some other member of the company (giv- 
ing his name, of course, but not his occupation), who 
had stayed over night with you on his way south ; 
that he said he would pass back in a few weeks, and 
that you would have him give you good money for it 
or have him arrested. You see at once your object is 
to silence inquiry, and when that is done the matter 
ends. Of course you would have better sense than 
to attempt to make any one of us take it back, unless 
you could make a better showing sometime in a crowd 
by calling on me or some other member, who may 
happen to be present, to know if that was not the 
bill you changed for us a little before ; in which case 
we will always acknowledge it as coming from us, and 
tell where we think we got it, always putting it so far 


THE CONTRAST. 


73 


off that no one will be likely to attempt to trace it. 
I never carry a dollar of bad money with me, so that 
if you were to return a bill to me, as above described, 
and any officer, who happened to be present, were 
sufficiently suspicious to search me, he would find 
no trace of dishonesty about me or my baggage; 
so we would escape the clutches of the law. You 
have but to remember never to offer to make a mem- 
ber of the company take money back which you have 
passed and had returned to you, until you know that 
he has no bad money with him at the time. Now we 
will suppose the worst — that you are in jail and all 
the testimony against you ; then we bring our money 
(good money) to bear on sheriffs, magistrates and ju- 
rymen. We can always be able to hire plenty of 
men, who are not suspected of any wrong, to stand 
around ready to be summoned as jurors; and when 
we get one or two such men on the jury we are safe. 
Besides, there are a great many members in our com- 
pany, and you are as apt to get one of them as any 
other; and when that is the case, no testimony will 
convict. Such a juryman knows he must say ‘‘not 
guilty” until he tires out any jury on earth. But in 
case the fates were against you in the court-house, 
and you were sentenced to the state prison, we would 
break the jail and put you out of their reach before 
any one outside of our clan would suspect there was 
such a thought conceived. I tell you we insure our 
members against all the provisions of law, and bid 
defiance to its officers. There is absolutely no dan- 


74 


THE CONTRAST. 


^er. Only where the party confesses his own guilt 
can he suffer. And if any of the fraternity should 
even confess his own guilt, he knows that it is as 
much as his life is worth to divulge on any other 
member. I will now tell you, moreover, that our 
membership embraces many of the men who stand 
in society as first-class citizens. Now tell me what 
you think of it. ” 

“Well,” said William, “I think you have a pretty 
good thing of it. You must have given it a great 
deal of thought. It seems to me the organization is 
as near perfect as it can be made.” 

“You may well say it has cost a great deal of 
study. If a man means to succeed in any business 
he must give it his attention. I went into this thing 
intending to make it pay, and I’ve done it. I started 
with but little of anything — but the will to dare and 
do — and now I’m rich ; and if you choose to join us 
you will soon discover I am not alone.” 

William now asked if ‘ ‘ the money was easily de- 
tected.” 

“Why, sir, we have among us one of the finest 
engravers in the United States. He has lately fin- 
ished a plate for us, which is so perfect that a bill 
from it was actually passed in the bank of which it 
claims to be an issue.” 

Here William laughed as if he had been an actor in 
what he said “ was the smartest thing of the kind he 
ever heard of.” “But,” he continued, “how in the 
world did you ever fool the bankers with it ? and what 


THE CONTRAST. 75 

'ever induced you to go to the bank with it, where 
there was so much danger of being detected?” 

Danger of being detectedy indeed! Why, .1 tell 
you it was one of the completest jobs I ever saw ; it 
was absolutely perfect. And then, we had our 
plans so well arranged that a rejection of the bill as 
spurious would have endangered no one. You see, 
we wanted to test the bill in the severest manner; so 
we sent it to the bank, knowing that if we could get 
It through there we would have no trouble with it 
elsewhere. We have in our company every descrip- 
tion of character you can well imagine, and we use 
just the character we need on all occasions. When 
we wanted to make two men (the cashier and presi- 
dent of the bank) believe they had signed their names 
to a note they had never seen before, we called into 
^ requisition one of the shrewdest yankees in all the 
land. He had just enough of the buffoon in him to 
defy suspicion. He was tall and slender, with large 
hands and feet, and unequaled in awkwardness when 
it suited his purposes. This singular genius, dressed 
in a suit of working apparel, stalked into the bank and 
■asked if that was the place where they gave silver for 
paper money. The banker answered, with a smile, 
that it was one of the places where they did that sort 
of business sometimes. Wall,’ said our yankee ; 

I’ve just finished my month’s work and got my pay 
in paper money, an’ being as I don’t know much about 
it. I’d like to swap it for silver. ’ And, as he drew 
his pocket-book from his pantaloons’ pocket — awk- 


76 


THE CONTRAST. 


wardly, of course, as if he seldom had occasion to do 
the like — the banker asked him where he had been at 
work. ‘ Out to Mr. Watson’s. He’s got an awful 
sight o’ clearing to do, an’ I’ve been a helping him a 
spell.’ And, as he laid the bill on the counter, he 
continued, ‘ I tell you what. I’ve done a sight of hard 
work for that there money! We don’t have no clear- 
ing to do up in Connecticut. ’ Without appearing to 
scrutinize the bill very closely, the banker counted 
out the silver, and our friend walked out in triumph.” 

^‘But what would he have done if the note had 
been pronounced counterfeit?” queried William. 

‘ ‘ Why, his story was a reasonable one ; he could 
not have been suspected, and he would have asked 
what he must do, and would have been told that he 
must make Watson take it back and give him a good 
one. All of which he could have done as innocently 
as if he had never heard of counterfeit before in his 
life. But Billy (the counterfeiter was becoming quite 
familiar), all this is not coming to an understanding. 
What are you going to do ? Do you intend to stand 
here and wait on your Daddy’s customers from morn- 
ing till night as long as you live, and die poor at last? 
or will you accept my offer and make yourself rich?”^ 
mean to accept your offer and get rich if I can.”" 

‘'All right! you’re a brick, ’’said Blatant. Now^ 
you must meet the fraternity at our rendezvous on 
Bushy Creek, in Grear County, the last Tuesday 
night in April, and we will initiate you into our order> 
and furnish you with a thousand dollars to begin with.** 


THE CONTRAST. 


77 


“But you forget that I know nothing of your ren- 
dezvous; how would I find it? 

“Have you ever been in Grear County? 

“Yes, once, and I crossed Bushy Creek while 
there; we were buying cattle, and, since I come to 
think of it, we bought some young stock of an old 
fellow living on the bank of the creek.” 

“ And do you remember his name? 

“I believe it is Swinks,” said William. 

‘ * Mike Swinks is the name and that is the place I 
want you to go to. Mike will put you through all 
right.” 

“Why, is he one of you?” asked young Hostell. 

“Yes, sir, and a very useful member he is, too. 
He lives convenient to our meeting place and on the 
public road ; so he not only has a good opportunity 
to get off money on travelers who frequently put up 
with him, but he is the greatest convenience to our 
distant members when it is necessary for them to visit 
our grand bank. We never allow him to travel on 
the business of the company, and, consequently, he 
passes but little of our money compared with travel- 
ing members, and hence we pay him out of the gen- 
eral fund for his services; and, as he is not allowed to 
travel, we know when we send a candidate for initia- 
tion, as I am sending you, that Mike will be there to 
receive him. ” 

“Well,” said William, “I am astonished at the 
wisdom of your arrangements ! What can be more 
shrewdly planned!” 


78 


THE contrast; 


**And I am persuaded the more you see of them 
the more you will admire them, ” said Blatant in reply; 

The hour had come when Hostell’s customers were 
dropping in for their evening appetizers (?), and Bla- 
tant reminded William of the time to meet the clan, 
and then sat reading an old newspaper or talking with 
some chatty old toper, as occasion offered, until sup- 
per, when he thought it necessary to make some 
excuse for having remained all the afternoon instead 
of proceeding on his journey. So he made it con- 
venient, as he sat down to the table, to remark in a 
tone of voice that every guest could hear: 

“Well, Mr. Hostell, I am here yet.” 

Old Hostell mentally multiplied the price of his din- 
ner by three, and then answered : “ Fm glad you are, 
sir ; I hope we may be able to make you comfortable. ” 
“Oh, as to that, sir,” answered Blatant, “I have 
never had cause to regret having stopped at your 
house yet, and Fve done so often, you know; but, 
really, I was so worn out this evening that I could not 
think of going further to-night. ” 

Old Hostell, feeling complimented, said he hoped 
he would feel rested by morning, and they would try 
to give him a comfortable night. 

After a half hour’s confab with William the next 
morning, spent in concocting a plan by which he was 
to get off to Grear at the appointed time without ex- 
citing suspicion. Blatant left, feeling that he had 
accomplished a great feat for his clan of outlaws in 
securing the services of young Hostell. During the 


THE CONTRAST. 


79 > 

day this latter gentleman was so full of pleasure in 
anticipation of his new and profitable employment 
that his father noticed and spoke of it. 

What’s put you in such high spirits to-day?” said 
he to that “hope of the family.” 

“Blatant accidentally gave me some information 
that is very acceptable, though I was not aware of an 
unusual flow of spirits,” was his answer. 

“And what acceptable information has he given 
you?” queried the old man. 

“Do you remember old Vinsens?” 

“Yes, I remember the old rascal ran off in my 
debt about thirty or forty dollars.” 

“Well, sir, it is information concerning him and 
that debt which pleases me. Blatant says he is living 
in Grear County, and he thinks the money can be 
made out of him. I have concluded to go up there 
about the last of this month and see if I can get it, if 
you have no objection.” 

Old Hostell loved money too well to object to the 
plan proposed by his son, and when the time had 
fully come, William ^as not more anxious to be off 
than his father was for him to go ; not knowing, in- 
deed, that he was hurrying his son to infamy, disgrace 
and ruin. With all old Hostell’s failings and false 
views of honor and honesty, he was not prepared for 
a step like that. This William knew; and hence the 
lie about Vinsens’s ability to pay the debt. He knew 
if his father knew what was the real object of his visit 
to Grear, he would rave with anger and play the mad- 


So 


THE CONTRAS’r. 


man to perfection. And, though he had no respect 
for his father’s feelings and opinions when they dif- 
fered from his own, yet he was careful to conceal his 
guilty intentions for his own sake and not for his 
father’s. Had Hostell ascertained the true state of 
the case, he would, in all probability, have exposed 
the whole thing, regardless of consequences. The 
■complicity of his son would have been no bar to his 
disclosure. Although his son might have been in- 
volved in all the disgrace of the clan, he would have 
told it all the more in the first ebullition of his wrath. 
Revenge was the sweetest morsel he ever tasted, and 
he enjoyed it as hugely when taken at the expense of 
one of his family as any one else. He would have 
■considered himself disgraced by William’s undertak- 
ing, and would have sought revenge on him as cer- 
tainly as upon Blatant. To have pursued a prudent 
course for the reclamation of his son would have been 
alogether out of his way of doing things. To carry 
his point, either by storm or stealth, was more con- 
genial to his nature. William had mastered every 
lesson taught in his father’s bar-foom and at the card 
table in the “side pocket,” and weary of repeating 
the same lessons, and having learned that there were 
lessons of a higher grade to learn before he could 
graduate and take out a diploma from the college of 
crime, he “purposed in his heart to take another step 
and, in pursuance of such a purpose, had matriculated 
in the school where the last lesson ever fabricated in 
hell could and would be taught to perfection. 


CHAPTER VII. 


The last Monday in April, 1803, William T. Hostell 
was on his way at an early hour, as old Hostell thought, 
to collect his money of Vinsens, or at least to put in 
process some action at law by which it could be done. 
All day, as he waited on his customers at the bar, his 
thoughts were running forward to the several steps 
which intervened between him and the coveted lucre. 
He would think of a dozen shifts which might be made 
to get it without waiting the slow process of the law. 
Then he would mentally follow the note through the 
hands of a constable, who might or might not be hon- 
est; its appearance in the magistrate’s court; its 
chances there ; its metamorphosis into a judgment ; 
the vexatious replevin ; the probable sale of property ; 
and, finally, the consummation of his happiness when 
the cash should be paid to him in propria persona. 

But while the old man was living months in this 
one day, William was spurring forward, as he believed, 
to certain fortune. His route, for the most part, lay 
through a wild and sparsely-settled country. Had he 
been inclined to moralize, he would have had ample 
6 (81) 


82 


THE CONTRAST. 


opportunity. With no traveling companion to disturb 
the train of thought entered upon, even to its climax, 
and with a variety of subjects worthy of profound 
study, he might have improved the time pleasantly 
and profitably. But such was not his habit. What 
was it to him that the feathered songsters carolled 
their love-songs in the branches above him ? The wild 
scream of eagles from their eyrie, or on their upward 
flight, failed to attract his thoughts for a moment from 
the one absorbing subject of money-getting. The 
earth was carpeted with a rich profusion of flowers,, 
and wild roses scented the air with their breath of 
perfume ; hills, that seemed to be struggling for the 
dignity of mountains, lifted their heads above the road 
in sublimity ; and the rocky chasms that opened far 
below were full of awful grandeur. But these objects 
which nature holds out for the admiration of her chil- 
dren, and for the elevation of their thoughts to sublimer 
subjects, were things too trifling in the esteem of our 
young adventurer to claim a passing notice. There 
was nothing in his soul that responded to these beau- 
ties, or, if there were, it was so buried beneath the 
selfish, sordid education he had received, that nature 
in her sweetest moods and grandest aspects, was 
wholly inadequate to the task of bringing it to light. 
It was as if one should pour a flood of melody over 
the ‘^cold, dull ear of death,*' or attempt to ravish 
the blind with beauty. Surrounded by the loveliest 
landscapes that ever met the eye of man, and greeted 
with a thousand songs from as many minstrels of the 


THE CONTRAST. 


83 


woods, still William was blind to majestic beauty and 
deaf to the melody of song. Without a note of sur- 
rounding objects or passing events, he hurried on the 
livelong day, nor broke the monotony of his guilty 
dream till the lengthening shadows of evening warned 
him of the approach of night. Then, gathering up 
his scattered senses as best he could and taking his 
bearings, he concluded he was not far from the ‘ ‘house 
of entertainment” on the creek, alias Mike Swinks’s. 
His conclusion proved correct; for, in his anxiety to 
reach his new-made friends (?), he had not spared the 
hired horse. A few more miles and he pulled up at 
Mike's fence as the sun nestled behind the darkening 
west. Swinks was expecting him, and so perfect was 
the description Blatant had given of the young man 
that he met him with a familiar smile, and calling him 
by name, bade him alight ; at the same time assuring 
him all was right there. 

The night passed with nothing worthy of note. 
The fact that honest people occasionally stopped over 
night with Swinks made it necessary for him to guard 
every expression and absolutely avoid all suspicious 
conduct ; so that, in case a stranger came suddenly to 
the door at nightfall, he should neither see nor hear 
anything that would damage the reputation of the 
neighborhood. 

They had all the next day, however, to devote to 
their peculiar business. Young Hostell accompanied 
old Swinks around over his farm during the day, and 
heard many a story of the rascal’s success in swind- 


84 


THE CONTRAST. 


ling the unsuspecting, and of the ease with which he 
had rescued many of the more imprudent or unfortu- 
nate of the fraternity from the grip of the law. The 
young disciple had many questions to ask, and his 
teacher was indefatigable in answering. 

To some extent the safety of the whole company 
was committed to each member, and hence every one 
felt the necessity of making an expert of each new 
recruit as soon as possible. William was no readier 
to ask than Mike was to answer questions relative to 
the black art of counterfeiting. Thus passed the day. 
The hour for meeting was eleven o’clock at night. 
This late hour enabled them to go to their rendezvous 
with less fear of detection. Mike could see a traveler 
to bed at the usual hour for retiring, and meet his 
companions in sin as punctually as if his house were 
not the temporary home of the stranger. 

After supper, on the second night of William’s 
stay with him, he proposed to take a hunt (foxes, 
he said, were numerous) and asked William if he 
would accompany him. William understood his mean- 
ing and readily consented, expressing great fondness 
for the chase. This fox-hunt ruse was not intended 
to blind his family, for they were all in the secret, but 
to give them a plausible excuse for his absence in case 
a traveler stopped or a neighbor called. He kept a 
pack of hounds and often hunted, as much to keep 
up the blind as for the sport. The bugle blast echoed 
and re-ehoed along the valleys, and ‘*the whole pack, 
hounds, curs, Tray, Blanche and Sweetheart, barked. 


THE CONTRAST. 


85 


yelped and dashed along.** An hour or two spent in 
this way brought the time for gathering in the den of 
infamy, and a few turns among the hills brought the 
hunters to the creek a mile or two above Swinks’s 
house. In profound silence they now proceeded 
along its banks until they reached a low cliff of rocks, 
in which appeared the mouth of a cave. Here the 
twain entered, and after proceeding a few paces were 
challenged with, ‘^Who enters here?” spoken in a 
hollow voice that would have frightened the uniniti- 
ated. Swinks answered, ** Friends!” ^‘Let friends 
beware and pass” — said the unseen sentinel, and 
Swinks added, ‘'to fortune! ” and he and his companion 
went forward, groping their way along the narrow 
passage until William was aware that they had made 
quite a turn in the direction, and then Swinks struck 
a light. William could now see that the rocky lane 
through which they passed made several abrupt turns, 
so he would think, when within a few feet of one of 
them, it was the end of the cavern. At length, how- 
ever, they emerged into a large room, from which he 
could see no outlet save that through which they had 
just entered. Here they stopped, and Swinks asked 
if he did not think that a safe retreat. William an- 
swered, “ I do; but,*' said he, “will there be no one 
else here to-night?” “ Plenty of them,” was the re- 
ply; “ only be patient.’* He had, perhaps, stopped 
here and purposely made the impression on William’s 
mind that they were already in the secret retreat of 
the company, that the reality might make the deeper 


86 


THE CONTRAST. 


impression when known. The walls of this room 
were marked by natural seams in the rocks, dividing 
them into panels or blocks of irregular shapes and 
various sizes. 

While William sat waiting, as he supposed, for 
other company, Swinks clambered to the top of a 
huge pile of loose rocks which lay against the wall, 
and thrusting his arm into a small aperture near the 
ceiling or roof of the room, seemed to be tugging at 
something, as if to draw it out. William thought of 
rabbits, coons, ground-hogs, any sort of wild animal 
likely to enter such a place ; but Swinks was pulling 
a rope which worked in pulleys on the other side of 
the wall, of the existence of which William was yet 
ignorant, but which drew a bolt fastening the rocky 
door leading from the room we have already described 
to the real den. Swinks now descended from the 
rock pile, and going up to one of the largest blocks 
which formed the wall of the cave, pushed against it; 
when, to the astonishment of Hostell, it yielded to the 
pressure and swung round on massive iron hinges, 
revealing another chamber, from which issued a flood 
of light which fairly blinded the beholder. A familiar 
voice from within bade them enter. They did so, 
and the great rock door swung back to its place in 
the wall. Blatant met William cordially, and told him 
he was glad to see him so punctual ; introduced him 
to the members present, and then informed him that 
it was necessary for him to take the oath of the order. 
This he declared himself ready to do, and was accord- 


THE CONTRAST* 


87 


ingly led to the center of the apartment, where a pistol, 
^ ^^agger and a sabre lay on a stone which appeared 
to have been placed there for the purpose. His hands 
were placed upon them, while the members formed a 
circle around him with drawn daggers. Blatant, who 
stood on the opposite side of this altar of Erebus, ad- 
ministered the oath, in which the young man bound 
himself to keep the existence of the company a secret ; 
to defend its members, by fair means and foul, in all 
troubles arising from their peculiar business; and, 
when necessary for their safety, to take the life of any 
one whom they might condemn ; to pay over to the 
company one-half of all the money he might make on 
the counterfeit furnished him, and to obey all other 
requirements of the order; binding himself in the 
awful penalty of death, in case he violated any part 
of his oath. The horrid obligations assumed, he was 
shown round the apartment, and made familiar with all 
that pertained to their nefarious art. There were seen 
the engraver’s instruments, which he was not allowed 
to remove from this underground workshop, lest the 
cold steel should tell the secret of their handicraft. 
When the engraver worked on an honest job, which 
he sometimes did in order to make the impression 
that he was making an honest living, he was compelled 
to use other tools and work above ground ; but when 
an instrument once found its way into this hiding- 
place, it was never to emerge again into the light of 
day. He was also shown the dies and plates and 
printing press used in the manufacture of their spurious 


88 


THE CONTRAST. 


coins and money bills. Here were shown metals of 
various kinds, used in the construction of plates and 
dies, or that entered into the composition of their 
coin. The paper upon which they printed the repre- 
sentation of bank bills, was there in abundance, and 
the villainous currency they palmed off on the world 
by tens of thousands ; as also large quantities of gen- 
uine money, which had been paid in by the members 
as the company’s part of the profits on their issues. 
This was used to buy material, pay for engraving and 
for other work, and for service rendered the clan or 
its members — such as lawyers* fees, money for corrupt- 
ing judges, jurymen, witnesses and -others. 

The sights all seen and explained to Hostell’s satis- 
faction, a grand treat was then enjoyed by all present 
according to each man’s taste. There was the sparkling 
brandy, the mollient whisky, the ruby wine, the fiery 
gin and many other drinks. All drank of one or an- 
other of these and praised the demon who presided 
over the still. But, by the rules of the place, none 
were ever allowed to drink to drunkenness in this 
den, lest he might be overlooked and left to sober off 
there, and be seen to issue from the cave after day- 
light and thus excite suspicion and lead to a discovery 
of all. Now they were ready to leave. William re- 
ceived the thousand dollars in counterfeit, and then 
the secretary called the roll of members, and each 
passed into the outer chamber as his name was called, 
until the secretary was alone in the inner chamber ; 
then his name was called and he joined his compan- 


THE CONTRAST. 


89^ 

ions, and all went forth from their fearful work under- 
ground to that above it. Two o’clock, and the cavern 
was emptied of inmates, and the silence of the grave 
was there. 

William returned to Leightonville the next day and 
pretended to his father that he had warranted Vin- 
sens, and thought the chances were good for getting 
the money. His plan was to make the debt against 
Vinsens an excuse for going to Grear as often as he 
could, and when he could no longer use that pretense 
or blind his father with it, to pay over the money out 
of his ill-gotten gains, and pretend he had collected 
it. The reader has already inferred that he had 
never heard of Vinsens. The whole story to that 
effect was stumped for the purpose of blinding his. 
father, and had succeeded to his liking. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


William T. Hostell was now prepared to commence 
business in earnest ; he only wanted an opportunity. 
He was now eighteen years old, and, for one of his 
age, had seen a good deal of the world and understood 
enough of human nature to guess pretty well who 
Avould be easily duped. The first chance he had to 
try his hand in his new profession happened in this 
wise : An unsuspecting-looking gentleman put up for 
the night at the Hostell house, soon after the events 
recorded in the last chapter, and William was not slow 
to ascertain where he was from and whither bound. 
In doing this he was not peculiar ; indeed, to question 
strangers upon these points, and even relative to the 
business upon which they travel, is characteristic of 
all new countries. It is thus the early settlers get 
most of their news and topics for conversation. A 
dozen loafers will often gather around a stranger in a 
hotel with this object in view, and ply him with ques- 
tions until he is obliged to unbosom. The habit, once 
formed for the laudable purpose of gaining information, 
is kept up, when this object is attained by less objec- 
(90) 


THE CONTRAST. 


91 


tionable means, for the gratification of an idle curiosity. 
William was not, therefore, considered impertinent 
when he questioned the stranger referred to above ; 
and having thus ascertained that he was going to 
Tennessee, he proposed to exchange a bill on a Ten- 
nessee bank with him. The gentleman readily con- 
sented to do this, and thus William put off his first 
counterfeit. He had occasional opportunities of re- 
peating his first success in the same way, on the same 
class of men ; but it was at the Spring Musters he first 
made it “ pay,” to use a phrase of his own. Masters 
used to give their servants the Muster and Election 
days as holidays ; and they, to turn this liberty to the 
best advantage, used to go to these gatherings as 
hucksters. Some of these set long tables, with a 
bountiful supply of roast pig and fat turkey, with 
**a touch off” of pies and other pastries that would 
put many a modern restaurant to the blush. Others, 
with less enterprise or capital, were the venders of 
smaller wares,” as cakes, cider, candies, nuts, and, 
in their season, water- and musk-melons; while now 
and then a gentleman of the dusky tribe, with more 
shrewdness than moral honesty, might be found in a 
sink-hole, behind a hay-stack or in a thicket of under- 
brush, with a jug or keg of something stronger than 
hard cider. 

All these venders were liberally patronized by 
William T. Hostell. When he could no longer eat 
and drink himself, he would feign himself tipsy and 
fall to treating any who might be without a dinner or a 


92 


THE CONTRAST. 


dram ; taking care never to part with change received 
at one table to pay a bill made at another. He never 
failed to go home from a muster or an election with 
a well-filled purse ; and, when he would exhibit his 
treasure to his father, that gentleman would smile 
approvingly and ask; ‘ Who is the worse off for that ? ”■ 
William would usually answer: “Oh, a good many 
of them ! ” and thus favor the little mistake he knew 
his father labored under. I have already stated that 
gaming was considered a useful art by old Hostell, 
and it was by this art he supposed his son was pros- 
pering. He had not reasoned through all the points 
of this gaming problem until he could see its legiti- 
mate progeny of evil. He had assumed a postulate 
wrong in itself, and reasoned from it about thus: “It 
is right to make money ; some men make money by 
card-playing; therefore, it is right to play cards.’' 
Here he ceased to reason (if the above specimen may 
be termed reasoning, because the one object of his 
life, money, was at the end of this mental effort. He 
could never pass that magic word with any degree of 
common sense. Had he reasoned farther, his syllo- 
gism might have appeared thus: “It is right to make 
money; some men make money by stealing; there- 
fore, it is right to steal!” Old Hostell would have 
been horror-stricken at such an idea. And he would 
have stood aghast if you had placed in his postulate the 
word counterfeiting, highway robbery, or any kindred 
word except gaming, which he was never able to recog- 
nize as being of the same lineage. And yet, if a neigh- 


THE CONTRAST. 


93 


bor had undertaken the thankless job of convincing him 
that his premise needed the adverb “honestly,” to 
make it correct, he would have gone off at a tangent 
into a tirade against hypocrisy and the dishonesty of 
sniveling Christians; concluding the whole lecture 
with a relation of some act of dishonesty upon the 
part of some minister or deacon he had known, who 
was, perhaps, known to no one else on earth. Many*^ 
a scamp, who wishes to abuse Christians and bring 
unwarrantable charges against them, and, at the same 
time cut off the possibility of their proving it false, 
states his charges as coming under his own obser- 
vation ; thus making it necessary to contradict him 
flatly before an antagonist can repel the slander. 
This is a delicate task, and many a child of God will 
suffer wrong rather than do so. This was Hostell’s 
method of reasoning (?), however, with a Christian, 
on all subjects. It was in this way he silenced such 
as ventured to give him advice or to remonstrate with 
him in any particular. No one was likely to attempt 
the service a second time; nor were they long learn- 
ing the meaning and application of the Scripture, 
“Cast not your pearls before swine, lest they trample 
them under their feet and turn again and rend you,” 
who ever attempted such a thing with him. 

Old Hostell was not long in ascertaining that Wil- 
liam was making a great deal more money away from 
home than he could make at home. He, therefore, 
made no objection to his frequent sallies to the coun- 
try or neighboring villages; indeed, he kept him 


94 


THE CONTRAST. 


posted in regard to gatherings where he would be 
likely to succed in his trade of gambling, as he sup- 
posed. Thus encouraged, the young man was con- 
stantly widening the field of his operations. Distant 
counties were soon made the theater of his acts. At 
one time he pretended to be hunting a stray horse ; 
at another he was buying sheep ; and, again, he was 
'pursuing a runaway negro — any sort of a story with 
which to satisfy the prying curiosity of bar-room in- 
quisitors. But he was always careful when huntings 
a horse never to change his business on that trip; 
he was too smart to create suspicion in that way. He 
traveled constantly, but never far in a day, lest he 
should pass too many houses of entertainment with- 
out patronizing them; and, as it was by his liberal 
patronage of such places that he . prospered, it was 
necessary that he should husband his time and travel 
as stated above. To pay a lodging bill of seventy- 
five cents with a five dollar counterfeit, and receive in 
exchange four dollars and a quarter in good money, 
however, seldom satisfied him ; he would make some 
excuse for having another changed if the landlord had 
the change to spare. He often had to get dinner at 
private houses where they could not change a man’s 
money, and he hated to go off without paying after 
enjoying their cheer; ^‘besides,” he would continue, 

‘ ‘ I sometimes have to hire men or boys to aid me 
with stock, and I am always needing change ; ” and 
a thousand other pretenses served his purpose. If he 
passed a dram shop at an hour when he could not 


THE CONTRAST. 


95 


pretend to want dinner or lodging he was always dry, 
and wanting a drink would enable him to get off a 
bill as certainly as a night’s rest; for his money bill 
was sure to be much larger than his “grog” bill. 
He managed to have his horse shod on one foot at a 
time, so as to get off bad money on these sons of 
Vulcan as often as possible; and they had reason to 
be thankful that their “lucky star” was in the ascend- 
ant if they did not do his work for nothing, and pay 
him the earnings of a hard day’s work besides. 
But why should I weary the reader with details? 
William T. Hostell had a mind of giant proportions ; 
it had been trained for evil ; and now that he had en- 
gaged in a business in perfect accord with his training, 
he planned, as few men could have done, to make it 
a success. His faculties, naturally powerful and fully 
developed by education for the service of Satan, now 
stimulated by guilt too black to see beyond, were fer- 
tile in expedients for the accomplishment of his ends. 
He was seldom at a loss for means of getting off his 
money to advantage. Did he meet with gamblers, 
he was ready to engage and stake his counterfeit 
against their money; if he lost he was nothing out, 
and if he won the stakes they were clear gains to him. 
If they played for drinks he preferred to lose the 
game, that he might have an opportunity of chang- 
ing money at the bar; and if the rascals fell into a 
quarrel, he would settle all difficulties by treating the 
crowd, or, if necessary, by paying over the money in 
dispute. Getting the change was his pay for all this 


^6 


THE CONTRAST. 


kindness; it made him money arid friends to boot. 
He seldom left a drinking or gambling-house without 
having made friends among its inmates, who would 
have stood by him in any emergency. Many of the 
poor, stupid dolts talked of him as a candidate for 
office of some kind, and often this constituted the 
topic of conversation for hours after he was gone. 
Among these sovereigns of our country the grand 
and essential qualification for office is electioneer- 
ing qualities; and these consist in the disposition 
to make himself agreeable to the low and vulgar 
rabble of the land, and the means of gratifying their 
thirst for strong drink. They never ask whether he 
is honest or not, and they neither know nor care 
whether he understands the meaning of such words 
as political economy,” constitutional law,” or 
“patriotic measures” or not. All they want to know 
is whether he will treat them or not, and, this inquiry 
answered affirmatively, they are ready to throw up 
their hats and shout his greatness as if the world’s 
salvation depended on his election. Alas, for the 
nation ruled by such a set of ninnies ! 

But to return to William T. Hostell. He no longer 
considered his father’s house his home ; but regarded 
it, rather, as a convenient stopping place as he passed 
from point to point on his mission of meanness. Feel- 
ing as he did that he was a mere fugitive from justice, 
the sacred idea of /lome had fled his bosom. How 
certainly every innocent thought forsakes the soul, 
when it deliberately “eats the apples of Sodom and 


THE CONTRAST. 


97 


drinks the wine of Gomorrah!" It was sufficient to 
reconcile old Hostell to his constant absence, that he 
dressed well, rode a fine horse and had plenty of 
money. The poor old man evidently had no higher 
idea of life than that a man should have money enough 
to gratify all his earth-born desires. His son seemed 
to have this, and he was therefore content. The boy 
was missed from Leightonville, but not regretted. 
The better class of citizens were glad he was so seldom 
in their midst. A tempter of no mean ability was 
gone, and they rejoiced that it was so. Parents felt 
easier, when their sons were out in town till bedtime, 
than they did when they knew he haunted the streets. 
They often hoped that with opening manhood would 
come a steadier habit ; but, whether or not, they felt 
as if they were blessed by his constant absence. As 
for William, he was thinking and caring but little as 
to what the people of his native village thought of 
him ; his mind was busy with other thoughts and 
other people. When in Leightonville he was fond of 
showing his money, as though he expected by such 
a display to make the good people of the town regret 
their having given him the cold shoulder,” for he 
was not ignorant of the general dislike they had for him. 
He could never understand why a man with money 
should be unpopular; and, though he cared nothing 
for the good opinion of his early associates, he felt that 
it would be sweet to make them feel as though they 
were the losers by cutting his society. His efforts, how- 
ever, had no other effect than to convince the upright 
7 


98 


THE CONTRAST. 


that he was handling money in spite of law ; yet they" 
generally thought, as his father did, that his prosperity 
was the result of his superior skill at the card table. 
Some, there might have been, who thought of horse 
stealing or highway robbery, in connection with his 
circumstances ; but if they did they kept their thoughts 
between their lips, or spoke them with bated breath 
in the privacy of their own families. Moreover, there 
was no evidence to excite such a suspicion ; it was a 
gratuity. William Tourney knew he had ample re- 
sources in the one business, and he was giving it his 
undivided attention. Besides, he was smart enough to 
know that he had enough to do to watch against one 
class of detectives, without inviting a second or third 
on his track. He had as many risks on hand, in his 
chosen calling, as he cared to take. It was sometimes 
sufficiently difficult to obliterate the tracks he n;ade 
on one path, without undertaking to do the same 
thing on two or three others. 

Having now spent about three years in the avoca- 
tion of an outlaw, and arrived at the age of twenty- 
one, he thought of leaving his native state. He had 
not waited for his twenty-first birth-day out of any 
respect for his parents before leaving for other parts, 
but some things made him feel that such a step was 
necessary just at that particular time. He had seen 
most of Kentucky, and, in his villainous way, had 
pretty well cultivated it; i. e.y he had put off about 
as much of his kind of money as he wanted in circu- 
lation there, at least for awhile ; and, in addition ta 


THE CONTRAST. 


99 


this, the newspapers had described the bills he circu- 
lated very accurately, and warned the public against 
them. He, therefore, thought it best to leave the 
field for a time, until the spurious money he and his 
associates had put in circulation was destroyed, and 
confidence once more established. He might re-en- 
ter it at some future time, but just then prying eyes 
compared all money bills too closely with the descrip- 
tions given in the newspapers of his currency, to 
allow him to feel quite comfortable in Kentucky. 
But newspapers of that early day did not reach out 
to distant states as they do now. A few hundred 
subscribers in the state where they were published 
were all the best could boast. Publishers in other states 
might note the fact that counterfeit money had been 
discovered in Kentucky, but would not concern them- 
selves enough to describe it until it was found in their 
own state. William could, therefore, find other fields 
for his operations, where suspicion had not been 
roused by tell-tale editors. Investing a portion of 
his means in land, which he doubtless thought would 
pay a good dividend on the capital invested, he left 
his native state to try his fortune among strangers. 
The more southern states were first to feel the smart 
of his rascality; but he had no idea now of being 
confined to a ‘‘pent up Utica.” He visited the North, 
the East and West as well. Wherever he could hear 
of a camp-meeting, an association or a big muster, 
“thither he went,” and reaped a harvest there. He 
pushed his way into the Canadas, bought trinkets 


lOO 


THE CONTRAST. 


and curiosities wherever he could find them, and ex- 
presssed them to parties as Utopian as the Pierian 
spring. Dealers in all the small wares and luxuries 
found in him a patron; little dreaming that he was 
fattening at their expense. He swept down on the 
borders of Mexico, and scattered his money like the 
leaves of autumn. Like a miserable carrion crow, 
that feasts alike on the putrefactions of decay or the 
sweet and tender flesh of bleating lambs, so he preyed 
alike on rich and poor, the ignorant and the wise. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Old Hostell was not slow to institute suits in the 
name of his daughters for divorces, as soon as Loncord 
Balldus, alias Hawkland, left the neighborhood of 
Leightonville, after his brother, William Hawkland, 
had sued him for a settlement and division of his 
father's estate. We have already related the result of 
suit in the case of Mrs. Balldus. The divorce was 
granted and her maiden name restored. She was once 
more Miss Amelia Hostell, in the eye of the law ; and, 
the legislature being appealed to, changed the name of 
her child, who thenceforth bore the name of his grand- 
father, Hostell. Mrs. Baum was also restored to the 
state of “single blessedness.” This, however, after 
many delays, occasioned in part by the fact that 
Hostell had money to spend on lawyers, but princi- 
pally because Baum put in an appearance at court and 
fought the measure, except on condition that he 
should also have the benefit of the separation. This 
was, to say the least, a good ground for continuation. 
How could even “ gentlemen ” be expected to 
find grounds for the divorcement of both parties with- 

(lOl) 


102 


THE CONTRAST. 


out consuming many months in profound study and 
deep research? Was it not necessary, in order to 
divorce the wife, to prove the husband guilty of some 
grave offense against the laws of marriage ? And now 
the husband is to be divorced also, it becomes equally 
necessary to show that the wife is as guilty as he. 
What a predicament ! Even lawyers required time to 
“inwardly digest” a subject like that. However, 
they finally got through the difficulty, much to the 
satisfaction of all the parties save one. There was 
general belligerency and general agreement among 
them, and hence the divorces. Common consent 
unraveled the tangled skein. 

Mrs. Baum had not sued for maintenance. She 
had tried the “living, ” and found it too poor to pay for 
the vexations of a suit at law. Perhaps, if she had 
been left to herself with none to urge her forward in 
the matter, she would not have been divorced. She 
had never been taught to govern her temper, to for- 
give a fault, or in any way to look over the short- 
comings of others; but, on the contrary, to seek 
redress ample and full for every injury, even though 
it existed only in her own imagination. She had 
inherited the idea from both her parents, that revenge 
was sweet, and she had acted upon this idea in her 
suit. The truth is, she loved Baum, and, had she 
been permitted to consult her woman’s heart, the 
contest between them would not have ended as it did. 
We have elsewhere stated that this woman’s first 
impressions were received under more hopeful circum- 


THE CONTRAST. 


103 


stances than those by which she was surrounded when 
we first introduced her to our readers. Throughout all 
the years of litigation between her and her husband, 
these first and better impressions struggled right 
valiantly for supremacy over later and worse ones. 
She had been neglected, impoverished and forsaken, 
but had she not bargained for the clouds as well as 
the sunshine of married life? Whilst yet a child, she 
had mixed with a class of people who, she now remem- 
bered, differed in many particulars from those with 
whom she had been associated in later years. In 
that almost forgotten class she had seen poverty and 
suffering, as well as riches and pleasure. Where the 
poverty was deepest and the suffering most intense, 
she had seen patience, forbearance, forgiveness and 
love. Thus would she often commune with her own 
thoughts, as she looked over the past of her own and 
the lives of others. But as often as these kindlier 
feelings asserted their claims upon her heart and mind 
and life, some incident occurred which, for the time 
being, would wholly obliterate them. It really seemed 
as if Satan feared their effects, and therefore would 
not suffer them to lie undisturbed in her mind. His 
hucksters, like evil genii, were ever at her side, prompt 
to choke out every thought of love and mercy, of 
forgiveness and reconciliation. These satraps of his 
Satanic majesty felt amply repaid for their dirty work 
if old Hostell deigned to smile upon them when they 
had exhausted the Billingsgate lexicon of its foulest 
epithets to hurl at the absent Baum. As this remu- 


104 


THE CONTRAST. 


neration was cheap to Hostell, he was always willing^ 
to pay down the price they asked, especially as the 
work they did was so grateful to his feelings. 

Thus month after month, and even year after year, 
passed away while Mrs. Baum was compelled to fight 
for a divorce her heart never asked. She saw and 
magnified her husband’s wrongs, but conscience often 
asked if she had always been faultless, and truth 
compelled her to confess she had not. She began 
now to see in the light of her childhood days that 
life was made up of light and shade ; that the con- 
fession of our own, and the forgiveness of others’, 
wrongs entered essentially into the light — the happi- 
ness of life; while the absence of these graces makes 
most of its shade. Pride, “the foulest whelp of sin,” 
said to her : * * Confession is meanness ; it is degrading, 
debasing — never make it! Forgiveness is base cow- 
ardice — a sure mark of weakness I And Satan whis- 
pered, “Revenge is sweet!” Ah me! those evil 
powers held the citadel of her soul! 

If angels ever concern themselves with the affairs 
of men, surely they sympathized with this poor, tem- 
pest-tossed, soul-riven sufferer on life’s billowy surges. 
But if their sympathy and succor are ever to avail 
anything in her behalf ; if conscience is ever to assert 
and maintain its sway over her actions ; if the finer, 
purer feelings of her woman’s heart are ever to dis- 
place the more unlovely, that time is not yet come. 
Other trials and fiercer conflicts await her ; she has 
not yet felt alone in the world. Her father’s house 


THE CONTRAST. 


105 


was still open when she was deserted; thither she 
could turn her weary feet and hope to rest. But the 
time will come, O woman, when you will be glad to 
fly from that father’s house as from the pestilence. 
But I must not anticipate my story. 

The separation was finally legalized between her 
and Baum, as we have seen, and they were once more 
at liberty to contract marriage with other parties, 
without regard to the feelings of each other. One 
singular circumstance was noticeable all through those 
years of separation, both before and after divorce. 
It was this : The children remained with tlieir mother, 
although the law gave them to the father. It was 
not singular that the mother should consent to the 
father’s visiting the hotel, ostensibly to see his chil- 
dren, on condition that she should be allowed to keep 
them with her; but it was strange that the father, 
having all legal advantage in the case, should consent 
to any such accommodation of the matter on any 
condition. Was it that he looked forward to a recon- 
ciliation, and foresaw that this step would be the most 
natural inauguration of measures leading to such a 
consummation? We shall see, perhaps. At all events, 
the children remained with their mother at their 
grandfather’s, and Baum often visited them. They 
appeared quite fond of him, and Hostell was quite 
content to have him come to his house, as he always 
paid his bill just as strangers did. Baum had learned a 
useful lesson from the separation. His morals were not 
improved — it was thought they were rather worsted — 


io6 


THE CONTRAST. 


but his business tact was. He saw now the need of 
close attention to business of some kind, and he in- 
wardly resolved to make a living at all hazards, and 
thus, as far as possible, wipe out the stain which he 
saw attached to his past history. He kept his own 
counsels, and with an eye on the chances turned them 
to good account. Report said he made a lucky draw 
in a lottery scheme. If it were true, however, he 
carefully concealed it from the public. Not because 
he cared for the questionable morality of it, but 
he wanted Hostell to consider him poor until the 
suit was done with. He evidently feared an amended 
petition, praying for alimony as well as divorcement. 
But as soon as he was well rid of the court house, he 
was not slow to make known the fact that fortune had 
smiled upon him. He soon went into a mercantile 
business in which he prospered well. 


CHAPTER X. 


As Baum was now prospering in the world, all 
cause of complaint against him, so far as old Hostell 
was concerned, was removed. He had not reformed 
his life in any moral sense ; nor was this necessary to 
conciliate his ex-father-in-law. Indeed, a good moral 
character was no recommendation with him. Baum 
was still a wicked man. All the change for the better 
in Baum’s life was in a business point of view ; here 
the change was a radical one. Early and late, in fair 
weather and foul, he was busy with the et cetera of a 
trade, into which a large barter entered as an essen- 
tial element. The goddess of fortune smiled propi- 
tiously upon all his efforts, and crowned them with 
abundant success. His neighbors were not long in 
discovering his business qualifications, and, as he 
dealt fairly with them, they soon turned a large share 
of their trade into his hands. Prompted by his own 
interest, and urged forward by the desire to be rich, 
he rapidly enlarged his stock in trade. Scores of 
hands were employed in building and running flat 
boats. All kinds of country produce were taken in 
(107) 


io8 


THE CONTRAST. 


exchange for goods, and sent off to New Orleans 
where they always brought remunerative prices. Un- 
consciously he had become a benefactor by encourag- 
ing industry and developing the resources of the 
country. Hitherto, tens of thousands of hoop-poles 
tangled into thickets, useful only (so far as the inhabi- 
tants could see) as hiding places for innumerable wild 
animals. These, in their turn, afforded sport for the 
huntsman and “meat for the eater;” but no one ever 
thought of turning these natural sources of prosper- 
ity to good account. Wildcats, catamounts, wolves, 
bears and an occasional panther made “night hid- 
eous” with their frightful yells and fierce rencounters. 
Baum made but a few trips to New Orleans until he 
discovered a market for the flesh of some and the 
hides and fur of others. But what was far better, 
there was a market for the very thickets in which 
these animals multiplied. He now set a price on 
each, suited to its value in the market, and soon his 
customers exchanged their coon-skin caps for more 
comely wool hats ; their buck-skin pantaloons were 
superseded by fabrics indicative of a higher civiliza- 
tion, and their children no longer nestled at night on 
sheets stripped from the back of a wolf, or covered 
with blankets for which bruin was robbed of his hide^ 
Yankee looms supplied them with articles less sug- 
gestive of hungry wolves feeding on helpless children, 
or fearful fights with panthers. While this change in 
society was bringing comfort and safety to all else, it 
was bringing wealth to Baum. His neighbors were 


THE CONTRAST. 


log 


too generous to envy him in this ; he had prospered, 
but not at their expense ; they knew he had served 
them as well as himself. His was a legitimate and 
honorable prosperity. If the rumor of the success- 
ful lottery investment were true, he wisely forbore to 
invest again where there were so many chances against 
him ; could he have had an assurance of gain in such 
an investment, there was nothing in his moral creed 
which would have forbidden it. But in the absence 
of all such assurance, he preferred to invest where 
the return was sure; and he found no difficulty in 
doing this. 

An almost boundless field was open before him, 
and he saw around him no rival competitor to divide 
with him the golden harvest. There was one idea, 
however, which no prosperity, no press of business, 
no changes of circumstances or society around him, 
could ever erase from his mind. It was the thought 
that his children were but a multiplication of himself. 
He should live in them even after death itself had 
claimed him as its victim. He looked not to the 
great beyond in connection with his own individuality.) 
His future was all in the lives of his children. By his 
own voluntary act he had brought a stigma upon 
their characters which he was resolved to wipe off, if 
it were possible to do so. Unfortunately for him and 
them, he had no higher idea of respectability than 
such as money, business qualifications and honesty 
between man and man would purchase. So far as 
these could take away the reproach his act had 


no 


THE CONTRAST. 


entailed upon his children, he succeeded in giving: 
back the reputation he had unwittingly taken away. 
O, that he had only known the Saviour’s love ! Then 
might he have taught them the value of that character 
which no act of another can ever sully and no mis- 
fortune corrupt. But his religion consisted only in 
honesty, and reached no farther than the grave. All 
beyond was a myth to him. Character with him 
reached not out into the great eternal future. He 
thought it was all of life to live and all of death to 
die. Poor man ! Sad and fatal mistake ! Deeply as 
we deplore his irreligion, we are forced to admire 
some traits of his newly acquired character. His 
honesty in trade, his industry in business, and, above 
all, his undying love for his children, command our 
respect and esteem. 

We have hinted that Hostell no longer looked upon 
Baum with vindictive hate. Perhaps he would not 
now have considered him a suitable installment on the 
Devil’s debt. He had grown tired of abusing him 
even before the litigation ceased. Why should he 
not? It is said the sweetest pleasures are first to cloy ; 
and certainly Hostell had known no more exquisite 
joy than the vilification of his son-in-law afforded him. 
It was therefore to be expected he would be sooner 
satisfied with it than with a pleasure less pungent. 
Be that as it may, however, Hostell had ceased his 
abuse of Baum. He had even begun to take some 
interest in his affairs, occasionally inquiring of his 
neighbors about him and his business. It was no 


THE CONTRAST. 


Ill 


difficult matter to see that he was pleased with his 
good fortune. He would now make it convenient, 
when Baum came to see his children, to enter into 
conversation with him on various topics of secular 
interest. He had a way of his own in everything. 
These talks with Baum must not be introduced in such 
a manner as to make the impression that he specially 
desired it; but some one in Baum’s neighborhood 
owed him a trifle, and he wanted to hear something 
about him, or he had heard of some one who wanted 
to hire out, and he just wished to inquire somewhat 
concerning their reliability; and at another time he 
needed a few venison hams, and thought Baum might 
be able to tell him who had them to sell, and these 
strictly business inquiries were frequently spun out to 
a half hour's chat. 

The people saw all this, and thought, ‘‘What a 
change his money makes!” Mrs. Baum had never 
shunned the society of her husband. She had, how- 
ever, studiously concealed from him, and, indeed, 
from every one else, her real feelings toward him. 
When he came to the hotel she spoke to him politely, 
but as calmly as to any other guest. He did the same 
by her. No word of explanation had ever passed 
their lips. He had left her in destitute circumstances, 
without saying why he did so, and when he next 
heard from her she had sued him for a divorce. If he 
had any explanation to give of his conduct, he was 
then too stubborn to make it. She had often thought 
it possible that she had acted hastily, even rashly, in 


112 


THE CONTRAST. 


applying for redress in the way she had, and so soon 
after his fault, and that, too, without giving him an 
opportunity to explain. 

‘ ‘ May he not have gone off to seek employment 
by which to gain a livelihood? Did he really mean 
to forsake me?” 

Thus she would reason for hours together without 
being able to answer her own conjectures satisfactorily. 
His after success seemed rather to favor the idea than 
otherwise. 

“How else had he gotten the means to begin mer- 
chandising on?” she would ask, but none answered 
her anxious inquiries on the subject. Baum could 
have done so, and no other could ; at least she knew 
of no one else who could. Why did she not ask 
where the information could have been obtained? 
Perhaps she thought, as he was first in the trans- 
gression, he ought to be the first to make advances 
for a settlement of the troubles which had grown out 
of it. Had she been familiar with an old book, which 
some of her neighbors prized above rubies, she would 
have known that the aggrieved, the sinned against, 
was the party who should move first for a reconcilia- 
tion. (See Matt, xviii.) But she had never been 
taught to consult that precious treasure on any subject, 
and hence was left to suffer and grope her way in 
ignorance on this as on many other points. 

Those who witnessed the first meeting between 
them after their separation, in which they arranged 
for the children to remain with their mother, etc.. 


THE CONTRAST. 


113 


thought it tlie coolest business transaction that had 
ever taken place in Leightonville. The ancient stoics 
could not have excelled it. The defining of the 
boundary lines of rights and privileges, the apparently 
cold and heartless propositions made, the final conclu- 
sions reached without the slightest emotion, were 
unaccountably strange. When they had settled the 
terms, however, and she was alone with the children, 
they ‘‘wondered why mama cried and kissed them so 
many times.” 

Nor was Baum as hard as he had appeared to be. 
He too had suppressed the finer feelings of his nature 
during the interview, and merely seemed a stoic. 
There was one soft corner in his heart, and his child- 
ren occupied it. The idea of having them stare at 
him as though they stood in doubt of him made him 
shudder. As he left them it was with great difficulty 
he suppressed the tears. There was a great choking 
sensation in his throat, which he remembered as one 
of the weaknesses of childhood. And here we may 
as well confess, on his behalf, that he was not v holly 
indifferent to his wife. He still saw something to 
admire, if not to love, in her. Her devotion to the 
children formed a common bond between them. 
Truant as their loves may have been toward each 
other, they had centered in this common interest, and 
‘like kindred drops” here “mingled into one.” He 
had apparently mastered all this feeling an hour after- 
wards, and, in company with a friend, was passing 
out of town and by the hotel, when his eyes would 
8 


114 


THE CONTRAST. 


wander over the premises as if he would see some one 
with whom he wished to speak. There, in the garden, 
stood his wife. She was in full view. Had she taken 
her stand there on purpose to get another glimpse of 
him as he passed? She only knew. He gazed at her 
as if it were a real feast to his eyes, and, after passing 
in silence out of her hearing, he turned to his friend 
and said, rather ardently : 

‘ ‘ I tell you she is the finest looking woman I ever 
saw.” 

The twain rode on in silence again until they reached 
the top of a rise in the road, from which they could 
have a last view of the town, and especially of the 
hotel premises, when Baum turned in his saddle to 
catch a last look. 

“There she stands yet,” said he, as if unconscious 
of the presence of any one, and then rallying, con- 
tinued, addressing his friend: “I wonder why she is 
standing there so long?” 

His friend, without appearing to notice this ques- 
tion, put another: 

“Baum, why don’t you live with your wife?” 

“Well, I hardly know. You know she has sued 
me for a divorce.” 

“Yes, I know she has, but it seems to me the 
whole thing might be settled, and the suit be with- 
drawn, if you would try.” 

“I don’t know whether it could or not. Joan is 
very headstrong.” 

“That may be, and yet if no one else is heady the 


THE CONTRAST. II5 

trouble may all be settled. Have you ever made an 
effort at reconciliation?” 

‘‘No, I have not. When I returned I found myself 
sued, and, the truth is, I was too much mortified, too 
stubborn and too mad to do anything that looked like 
humbling myself, and I just determined to be as inde- 
pendent about it all as possible.” 

“You have never told her why you left her, I sup- 
pose?” 

“No, I have never told any one that.” 

“And why have you not told her? She had a right 
to know why it was.” 

“I could not tell my reasons for leaving without 
putting myself too much in her power. The suit had 
been instituted, and if my reasons for leaving her had 
not been satisfactory to her and her advisers, it would 
have done no good, of course, to have given them, 
and then, as I said, would have put me, to some 
extent, in their power. I was simply determined to 
give them no advantage of me.” 

‘ ‘ But don't you still love her, and would it not be 
much better to have your children with you, without 
separating them and their mother?” 

“I may as well own that, ‘with all her faults, I 
love her still.' As to the children, I shall not take 
them from her unless she marries another. But let 
us talk no more about it now.” 

“May I not suggest," ventured his traveling com- 
panion, “that it is highly probable your wife would 
give all she ever hopes to be worth to have all this 


ii6 


THE CONTRAST. 


trouble buried, and be with you again. A woman’s 
love is more constant than a man’s. I doubt if many 
waters can quench it.” 

‘ ‘ I wish I could think she wanted to be back with 
me again; but I can’t see just now how our matters 
are to be accommodated. Perhaps it had as well go 
on as it is, and we’ll trust to luck,” said Baum, making 
an effort to appear cheerful. 

“Aye,” answered the other, “under God w^e gen- 
erally make our own luck.” 

“Well, well, I don’t think God is having anything 
to do with this matter, ” said Baum, a little impatiently ; 
and the subject was dropped. 

The two men rode on, conversing on other and less 
painful topics. 

Months and even years have sped away since the 
conversation above related passed between Baum and 
his Christian neighbor. Courts have been in session, 
lawyers employed, juries impanelled, witnesses have 
testified, clerks feed, verdicts rendered and divorces 
given. 

The mask of worthless poverty has been thrown 
off, and Baum is now considered rich and prosperous. 
Perhaps his friend of the conversation just recorded 
could now understand why he never told what he left 
his wife for, and what he meant by saying * ‘ it would 
put him in the power of his wife if he gave his reasons 
for leaving her.” He was safe now in letting the 
world know he had money. It was too late for his 
wife to claim a support, and he, therefore, used his 


THE CONTRAST. 


1 17 

means as he pleased; he used it so as to increase it, 
and, at the same time, was developing industries 
among his neighbors of immense value to the com- 
munity where he had fixed his habitation. He often 
visited his children, and seldom went without taking 
them some useful present. This made them think 
well of him and look forward to his visits with pleas- 
ure ; moreover, his wife often told them they * * ought 
to love their father; that he loved them very much 
and wanted them to love him in return ; that he was 
good to them and would feel very much hurt if they 
did not always love him.” 

Mamma,” said little Johnny, one day when she 
was thus instructing them on paternal affection ; 

* * mamma, I do love papa, and I wish he would stay 
here all the time; what makes him stay away so 
much? Willie Franklin’s papa don’t stay away so 
much. Don’t you wish papa would stay with us like 
Willie’s papa stays with his children?” 

‘ ‘ Willie’s pa has a store here and stays here to at- 
tend to it; but your papa’s store is away off in the 
country, and he has to stay there,” replied Mrs. 
Baum. 

“Well, why don’t my papa have his store here, 
too?” persisted the little fellow; “don’t you wish he 
would, mamma?” 

“Yes, I’d like for him to be here, but he thinks he 
can do better where he is,” she said; and there was 
nothing more said for some time. Mother and child 
seemed to be thinking. Could we have read the 


ii8 


THE CONTRAST. 


mother's thoughts, perhaps the revelation would have 
been something like this: “These precious babes 
know nothing now of the alienation between their pa- 
rents, but it can not be kept from them much longer; 
they must know all about it, and oh, how can I ever 
explain it to them without weakening their affection for 
one or both of us! Will not others tell them of it 
without regard to their feelings ? Poor babes I an un- 
feeling world will give you many a heartache for the 
sins you never committed and knew nothing about.” 
And then the heartache she felt found some relief in 
a heavy sigh. This seemed to call Johnny back to 
consciousness again, and he thus interrogated her: 

“Mamma, may I go to papa's store some of these 
days?” 

‘ ‘ What, do you want to leave mamma and little 
brother?” said the almost startled mother. The 
thought came rushing into her very soul that he might 
one day prefer his papa’s store and papa’s society to 
her and any home she would be able to provide for 
him. Oh, what a tumult of contending feelings went 
plowing through her mother’s heart I But the tumult 
ceased somewhat when the child answered : 

“ No ; you and little brother can go too, can’t you ?” 

‘ * Oh, I have to stay here and help your grandma 
and Aunt 'Melia! I can’t go.” And Mrs. Baum 
felt more the terrible depth of meaning there was in 
the last sentence than she had ever felt before. ‘ ‘ I 
can*t go r and she felt like she would give the world 
if she could go, if it were only for the sake of her 


THE CONTRAST. 


II9 

children. Her feelings were getting the better of 
her, and she dismissed the child with the promise 
that he should go and help his father when he grew 
to be a man. He sauntered forth to calculate, in his 
childish way, how long it would be before he was a 
man, and to form plans — wondrous plans for the fu- 
ture, What child has not planned for the coming 
manhood ? 

Meanwhile his mother was doubly busy ; her hands 
with domestic duties, and her thoughts with the sub- 
ject of, *‘How shall I tell my children all the sorrows 
I have known?" She clearly saw they must find it 
out from some one, and she preferred that they should 
hear it from her own lips. Others might tell it 
correctly enough, but would they do it ? And 
then there were some things which none knew but 
herself ; besides, who else in all the world would pour 
oil into the wounds ^uch information would be sure 
to make in their young hearts, like a mother? She 
was resolved to be the bearer of the unwelcome mes- 
sage herself. “But not now," she said mentally ; “I 
must gather strength for the task. " Day after day she 
thought, to-morrow I must tell them ;" and yet she 
would fail when the morrow came, and wait another 
day, taking the risk of its being communicated to them 
by some one else, and in a more painful manner. 

During this period of procrastination and trial Baum 
came to see them, bringing each of them a new suit of 
clothes. She received them from his hand with a 
smile that made him think of the “old happy time." 


120 


THE CONTRAST. 


A Stranger would not have thought of anything else 
than the return of a husband and father to happy 
hearts, after a short absence, if he had witnessed the 
scene that followed. When the boys had thanked 
papa, with many kisses, for the presents, they scam- 
pered out of the room to show their new possessions 
to other members of the family. 

A new idea struck Mrs. Baum ; she would suggest 
the idea of the children’s going home with their 
father ; it would place them for a few days among 
strangers, who would not be likely to throw up their 
parents’ sins to them ; she now lived in constant 
dread of its being done in the village, and she thought 
she might be able to bring herself to the point of tell- 
ing them when they got back of their and her great 
misfortune. These thoughts ran through her mind and 
reached a conclusion in much less time than it has 
taken us to write them. 

Having reached the conclusion, she began (with her 
eyes on the floor) : ‘ ‘ Mr. Baum, are you so situated 

at home that you could take the children with you for 
a few days? I think it would be an advantage to 
them to get out from home a little.” 

‘ ‘ Why, yes ; do you think they would be willing 
to go?” said he. 

‘ ‘ Oh, they would be delighted with the idea. Johnny 
has been talking of it, and Billy always wants to go 
wherever his brother goes, and do whatever he does. 
There will be no difficulty on that score.” Some ot 
the old light was shining in Mrs. Baum’s eyes. 


THE CONTRAST. 


I2I 


‘*It would suit me very well to take them this 
evening, if it would make no difference with you, as 
I came in in a small wagon, and will have to come 
back next week in the same way, and if they will be 
satisfied till then, I can bring them home without 
making a special trip.” 

So it was arranged for them to go on their first visit 
to their father’s house. Afterwards it was a thing of 
frequent occurrence. Johnny was wild with delight 
when he heard that he was not to wait until he was a 
man before he could go to his father’s store, and 
Billy, not being old enough to appreciate that part of 
the privilege, jumped up and down, turned somer- 
saults, and talked loud and fast of the ride in the 
wagon, driving the horses, etc. During the whole of 
their little journey he stood between his father’s knees, 
as quiet as if he had never spoken a word in his life, 
holding the reins with both his hands in the firm belief 
that he was doing all the driving himself. His count- 
enance was a study. He scarcely took his eyes off 
the horses during the evening. Their martial tread 
seemed to have filled him with quiet wonder and 
delight too big for utterance. Johnny saw everything 
on the way, and asked questions by the score. This 
did not displease his father, and having nothing better 
to do, he answered his inquiries as best he could. 
Many Christian fathers do not act so wisely, but chill 
their childrens’ hearts and check their eager search 
for knowledge by commanding silence, even when 
their minds are not preoccupied by anything better 


122 


THE CONTRAST. 


than what their children offer. They arrived at Baum’s 
about sundown, and the boys were first taken into the 
store-room, where their curiosity was soon satisfied. 
They had seen stores before, and this one was not 
very unlike others. They next went to the dwelling, 
where a good substantial supper was served by a kind- 
hearted old negress, who had charge of the house in 
Baum’s absence, and was a sort of ‘ ‘ maid of all work. ” 

Not long after the repast Billy’s eyes indicated the 
approach of Morpneus, but he was unwilling to go to 
bed. However, he was more under the power and 
influence of the supposititious god than of his own 
will, and, in spite of his brave efforts to escape his 
grasp, was fast yielding to his powerful sway ; but 
starting up as for a final contest with the conqueror, 
he thus disclosed his objection to his embrace : 

“ Papa, will I have to sleep with that old nigger?” 

Baum could not repress a laugh, but he said, sooth- 
ingly : ‘‘No, my son ; you will sleep with me and 

Johnny in this nice big bed right here,” laying his 
hand on the clean, white counterpane. This was 
satisfactory, and the little fellow was soon lost to cares 
and harrassing fears. 

The birds were singing merrily when the brothers 
woke next morning, and they were soon ready for 
the enjoyments of the day. The week flew by, and 
Baum took the little ones home in a flutter of delight. 
Their visit had been pleasant to him and them, and 
all looked forward to frequent repetitions of the 
•-same pleasure. 


CHAPTER XI. 


The boys’ visit to the country afforded topics for 
conversations for weeks after their return, and they 
were not more interested in relating what they had 
seen and heard than their mother was in hearing it. 
Her ears were open particularly to every reference 
they made to what their father said. There were 
two points that she was especially anxious to know 
whether he had spoken of or not. Had he relieved 
her of the painful task of informing them that, in the 
eyes of the world, their parents were no longer 
husband and wife, ’’and had the children suggested 
his removal of his business to Leightonville, that he 
might be with them all the time, like Willie Franklin’s 
pa,” as they had suggested it to her, and, if so, what 
was the effect on his mind ? were points that filled her 
mind with anxious thought. She taxed her woman’s 
ingenuity to try to lead them out on these points 
without placing the subject in such a light before their 
minds as would be likely to induce them to open the 
subject to their father, on some future occasion, as 
coming from her. Once she thought the much- 


124 


THE CONTRAST. 


coveted information was about to be given. Billy was 
talking of his trip, and relating some things his father 
had said to him, when he abruptly left the thread of 
his narrative and said : ‘ ‘ Mamma, papa asked me if 

you ever talked to us about him.” 

“ And what did you tell him, sonny?” said she. 

* * I told him yes, you talked to us a heap about 
him.” 

‘^Well, Billy, what did you tell him I said about 
him ?” 

‘ * O, I told him you said we must love him, and 
that he was mighty good to us, and a heap of things,” 
said the child. 

The stock of information was exhausted, and Mrs. 
Baum tried in vain to draw from him any further sup- 
plies. She now saw she had either to reason out the 
problem from a postulate all too meager for her store 
of philosophy, or to wait the slow developments of 
time. 

Why does he want to know whether I ever speak 
of him or not,” she would ask herself. Reason gave 
a double and, therefore, an uncertain answer. The 
inquiry might originate in /taU as certainly as in love. 
Thus reason baffled all her efforts to come to a satis- 
factory conclusion. Her heart instinctively leaped to 
a more cheering solution of the problem ; but reason 
would again interfere, and dash the hope her heart had 
framed with the suggestion that the existence of affec- 
tion in her own bosom might be the only ground for 
supposing its existence in his. ' * The wish is father to 


THE CONTRAST. 


125 


the thought,” and then with a sigh she would dismiss 
the subject, or try to do so, only to find herself more 
eagerly grappling with it a few moments afterward. 
Alternate hope and fear held possession of her soul. 
In this state of perturbation she lived on, while the 
lagging hours lengthened into days, the days to weeks, 
and weeks to months. 

‘*Oh, if I only knew what he left me for,” she 
would mentally exclaim, ‘^then I would know what 
to depend on — what to do. Or if I could only know 
whether he loves me or not — just ever so little, so he 
but loved at all — I’d try to kindle the spark into a 
flame ! Oh, I’d nurse it so tenderly he’d be obliged 
to love me more!” And then her overburdened 
heart would find temporary relief in a flood of tears, 
which she was too proud to allow another to see. 

There were other trials awaiting her. It was nec- 
essary that her proud and stubborn will should be 
further humbled. And while the fates are preparing 
these floods of grief with which to overwhelm her 
spirit in anguish too big for utterance, let us look 
after some of the other characters introduced in the 
preceding pages. But before leaving the parties now 
before us, let us take a peep into the comfortable home 
of Mr. Baum ; and, .since it is fashionable, suppose 
we pry into the thoughts which often take possession 
of his mind. While his children were at his house, 
he was evidently as anxious to learn what his wife 
thought of him as she was, after their return, to as- 
certain what place she occupied in his thoughts, if 


126 


THE CONTRAST. 


any. Hence it was that he asked Billy if his mother 
ever talked to him about him ; and, having received 
no information from the child upon which he could 
rely as evidence of a lingering affection, he, too, had 
reasoned to little purpose on the subject. He often 
wondered why his wife should take pains to teach her 
children to love one whom she hated ; but, when he 
remembered there was such an enigma as a “mag- 
nanimous foe," he felt that all his hopes of an easy 
reconciliation were vain. She might feel that it was 
the duty of her children to love him because he was 
their father ; and, at the same time, feel that she was 
at liberty to hate him, and even to love another. 
This last thought, love another, would bring him to 
his feet and set him to walking the floor of his solita- 
ry room, in a flutter of painful excitement, while the 
cold perspiration would stand in beads upon his fore- 
head. The very thought was intolerable! How, 
then, could he ever bear the reality, if it should come 
to that? The demon of jealousy would haunt his 
mind and torment his soul, while his rival existed 
only in imagination. Long after all else about his 
premises were lost to corroding cares in sweet repose, 
he would pace his room in a frenzy of excitement and 
brood over the great misfortune of his life. After 
such a night of unrest he would rush to business on 
the approach of daylight, with the double purpose 
of drowning his sorrow in the duties of the day, and 
of providing the comforts and luxuries of life for his 
children. 


THE CONTRAST. 


127 


Meanwhile Mrs. Hostell, with accumulating years 
and the multitudinous sorrows which had gathered 
around her, had taken to hard drink; not, indeed, as 
an every-day business, but, in the more common 
style of that period, she would take “sprees.” The 
drinking propensity was periodic. At first the inter- 
vals between these “sprees” embraced months, but 
they regularly diminished in length until the family 
looked for their return about every three weeks. 
In her case, spirituous liquors appeared to be accumu- 
lative and explosive ; that is, her system could not 
work it off as fast as she took it on, and hence it ac- 
cumulated in the system ; and, as it is not to be 
expected that one small woman could bear the pres- 
sure of just any amount of it, an explosion was the 
natural result. These explosions were more danger- 
ous to the family than to herself. When she could 
no longer bear the pressure of “evil spirits,” she be- 
came furious toward all the family, and often, knife 
in hand, would clear the premises of humanity, with 
one honorable exception : the cook was allowed to 
remain. Perhaps this latter character pandered to 
the taste of her mistress, and, therefore, never in- 
curred her wrath. Baum’s children were sent to the 
“grocery ” or out in town on these moving occasions. 
The “grocery” was never invaded by her ladyship, 
and hence was exempt from her ravages. Doubtless, 
the demon who prompted her savage sallies kept the 
fact before her, that this was one of his strongholds 
which she must not disturb. 


128 


THE CONTRAST. 


The older members of the household usually locked 
themselves in their respective bed-rooms, leaving the 
principal part of the house to the ‘^possessed” and 
the cook. When she had succeeded to her satisfac- 
tion in gaining undisputed possession of the house, 
she usually swore at the locked doors for a while, and 
then took her bed in a perfect abandonment. The 
cook now gave notice to the self-imprisoned members 
of the household, and they ventured forth to duty 
again. 

The madam would keep her bed until perfectly 
sober, and then rise and meet the family without the 
slightest reference being made to anything that had 
occurred by either of the parties. Whether she was 
ashamed of these aberrations, or was entirely ignorant 
of what she had done after becoming sober, is uncer- 
tain. If the former, she certainly had a shrewd way 
of hiding it, for she acted precisely as one rising from 
peaceful slumbers. She would now fall back to her 
old-fashioned “morning dram,” and for a few days a 
more than ordinary quiet reigned about the hotel. 
Her orders were given in a soft and rather pleasant 
voice ; her manners were obliging, and her duties as 
housewife and landlady fully met. If she had occa- 
sion to speak to her husband, she addressed him as 
Mr. Hostell ; if to either of her daughters, she made 
use of no offensive abbreviations, but pronounced 
their full names. Unfortunately, however, this state 
of things could not last. The morning dram soon 
required a dinner appetizer^ and this again prepared 


THE CONTRAST. 


129 

th’e way for a like stimulant for supper. Thus the one 
dram a day, of the olden times, was multiplied into 
many, and thus, too, Mrs. Hostell prepared herself 
for another display of her demonship. For a few 
days now her husband was “Hostell," without the 
honorary prefix ‘ ‘ Mr.", and her elder daughter’s name 
was compressed into “Jo," while the youngest was 
expected to answer to the nickname of “Mele," pro- 
nounced as one syllable. When abbreviations became 
common all the family expected the storm to burst 
upon them in savage fury at any moment. Nor were 
they long in dread. The lightning flashed from her 
eyes, and dismal thunders rolled in her voice, and 
all was uproar ! 


CHAPTER XII. 


Westerfield Gipson was on his way to Georgetown 
when we last saw him. He arrived in due time, and 
got boarding in the family of old Deacon Long, where 
he soon became a favorite, as, indeed, he was where- 
ever he was known. Deacon Long’s children were 
all married, and it suited him and his wife to have a 
couple of young men to board with them, as much 
for company as anything else. Westerfield’s chum 
was a young man from Alabama, who was pursuing 
his studies in the college with a view to the ministry. 
He had been two years in the school when Westerfield 
entered it, and was therefore of great service to him 
in posting him in the regulations of the institution, as 
well as with regard to the reliability of the students. 
Thus kindly informed, Westerfield found no difficulty 
in selecting associates whose morals were known to be 
unexceptionable. When he had been a week in 
Georgetown he wrote to his father as follows : 

Georgetown, Ky., September lo, 1800. 

*‘Dear Father: I reached this place about forty 
hours after leaving Leightonville. Nothing note- 

{130) 


THE CONTRAST. 


I3I 

worthy occurred on the journey. Upon my arrival I 
reported at once to President Giddings, as you directed 
me. From the moment I entered the village my 
heart was in a flutter at the thought of meeting one 
so far removed from the great mass of mankind as I 
supposed the head of a great institution of learning 
must be. As I walked toward his mansion I pictured 
in my mind a man inclined to corpulency, past middle 
age, too dignified to smile on any occasion, with a 
stiff and inapproachable manner. My foolish heart 
was not a whit relieved when I entered the beautiful 
lawn that stretched away in front of his elegant 
dwelling. A sylvan scene was around me, and I was 
in momentary expectation of the presiding deity. 
As I drew near the front entrance I mentally arranged 
and passed through the awkward introduction, and 
the fiery ordeal of an examination by the august be- 
ing I had created in fancy. 

**l had scacely finished these pictures when a gen- 
tleman no larger than myself, apparently about forty 
years old, with a pleasant smile running all over his 
face — and, it seemed to me — clear down to the ends 
of his fingers, met me with extended hand. My 
thoughts were then more rapid than my tongue or 
pen. ‘This,’ thought I, ‘is a pleasant little man 
the president has to introduce strangers — the usher 
of the institution. ’ Our hands locked, and I felt the 
smile creep pleasantly over me as I thought, ‘I 
shall have a genial friend in this man.’ Judge, then, 
of my surprise, when he broke the silence with. 


132 


THE CONTRAST. 


‘ * * Giddings is my name. ’ 

had no time to get scared, nor was there any 
need. I answered, 

‘ Westerfield Gipson, from Leigh ton ville. ’ 

“We entered the parlor as he said in an obliging 
manner : 

“ ‘I am glad to see you, Westerfield; I guess you 
are tired.’ 

^ ^ I told him I felt the need of exercise, but could not 
say that I was tired. We conversed a while, it seemed 
to me then, on various subjects ; but since I have had 
time to look back over the conversation, I see there 
was but one subject, and that was myself. In half 
an hour the little man had found out that my parents 
were members of the church — that I was not ; what 
I knew about books, and that I wished to take a reg- 
ular course in college with a view to the law as a 
profession ; and all this in such an easy, natural way 
that I never suspected he was finding out who and 
what I was. 

‘ ^ * How many of your father’s family are members 
of the church ? ’ he asked ; and when I had answered 
he knew my religious status. And when he wished 
to ciscertain my scholarship, he asked : 

‘ * * Who was your teacher in Leightonville, where 
was he educated, and how does he teach this and 
that science ? ’ 

‘ ‘.The truth is, he drew me out so fully on these 
points that he soon knew just how far I had advanced 
in my studies. And yet I knew not that I was un- 


THE CONTRAST. 


133 


dergoing the dreaded examination. After this con- 
versation he proposed to walk with me to the college, 
as I v/anted to exercise a little, and then he would 
help me find a boarding house. At the college we 
met some of the professors performing a like service 
for other young men who had just arrived. Intro- 
ductions were given as among equals, and a stranger 
would not have known, except by their ages, who 
were the professors and who the students. We were 
shown through the college building, examined the 
magnificent apparatus, looked into the museum of 
curiosities and the library, and then the president 
went with me to find boarding. It seemed to me, how- 
ever, that he had found it before we came, for Mr. 
Long received us very much as if he had been looking 
for us. I do not suppose he was, but there is a confi- 
dence and brotherly feeling among these people which 
is simply beautiful. When the president told Mr. 
Long I wanted to get boarding with him if he had the 
room, he answered ‘yes certainly and turning to me, 
asked me where my trunk was to be found, and sent 
for it immediately. 

‘ ‘ My room-mate here is a Mr. Thomson, from 
Alabama. He is a pious young man, and expects to 
enter the ministry ; or rather, he is a preacher, and is 
trying to qualify himself for the arduous duties of his 
high calling. Deacon Long and his wife seem more like 
parents to us than they do like landlord and lady. 
We are out of the village, for Mr. Long is a farmer, 
though the distance from the college is too short for 


134 


THE CONTRAST. 


my accustomed exercise. We have a fine graveled 
walk out all the way, so we may defy the mud this 
winter. I feel more at home than I had even hoped 
to do ; my studies seem as natural here as they ever 
did at home, when I was entering upon new and 
higher branches. 

* ' So far, every thing has been easy and pleasant. 
I can hardly trust myself to say that I want to see 
you all; that feeling, indulged too far, would soon 
ruin a student. Kiss mamma and sisters for me, and 
tell them I intend to do my best to make them proud 
of me. Excuse this long letter. I thought you 
would like to know how I worked into line so far 
from home. Father, please pray for me. 

‘ ‘ Y ours as ever, W esterfield. ’ ’ 

This letter was fairly devoured at home; it was 
read and re-read by each member of the family. It 
furnished subjects for conversations for a fortnight. 
Each member of the household thanked God for the 
happy surroundings of the son and brother, and 
prayed that some means might be used to save his soul. 

The scholastic year passed rapidly to Westerfield; 
the acquisition of knowledge had a charm for him 
which rendered him oblivious to the passage of time. 
He took but little notice of passing events; one 
broad idea filled his soul ; to be wise that he might be 
useful, permeated his whole being and energized every 
faculty of his mind. So absorbed was he in the lore 
of the past, that he would seem to live in a by-gone 
age, and among the sages of the long-ago. Such was 


THE CONTRAST. 


135 


his devotion to books that the college commencement, 
an event always hailed with pleasure by jaded stu- 
dents, appeared more like a calamity to him than it 
did like the forerunner of a joyous holiday. 

It was not until he had reached home, and enjoyed 
a few days of relaxation, that he realized how much 
he needed rest. His friend Thomson had decided 
to spend his vacation in Kentucky. His parents had 
informed him of the prevalence of malignant disease 
in his native place, and of their intention to go North 
to wait the subsidence of the fever. This informa- 
tion had lead to his decision. His intention was to 
remain in Georgetown and, perhaps, preach, if op- 
portunity offered, to some of the neighboring churches. 
This determination he communicated to Westerfield, 
who promptly and most earnestly invited him home 
with him. He urged this course in preference to his 
remaining in Georgetown, on the grounds that when 
all the other students left, he would be more lonely 
than he would be in a new place, and that the oppor- 
tunities for preaching would be better almost any- 
where else than around Georgetown. The president 
and one or two of the professors, being preachers and 
released from teaching, would gladly embrace the op- 
portunity to spend their vacation with such churches as 
they could reach from their homes. The field around 
Georgetown would, therefore, be fully occupied. 

** Besides,’* said he, there is much real destitution 
in my county, and I will engage to furnish conveyance 
and as much preaching as you will be willing to do." 


THE CONTRAST. 


136 

Thomson knew young Gipson too well to entertain 
the idea, for a moment, that he was pretending to a 
hospitality and friendship he did not feel ; he, there- 
fore, accepted at once his kindly-meant and kindly- 
given invitation to accompany him to his home in 
Leightonville. Westerfield immediately dispatched a 
letter to his father informing him of his friend’s inten- 
tion and object. Mr. Gipson was not long in letting 
his pastor know there was a prospect of his getting 
help in his summer’s work. This was grateful news 
to Mr. Thomas. He had contemplated holding sev- 
eral meetings in his churches during the summer, but 
had been at some loss to know where he could get 
help. Now that a preacher, in the first zeal of his 
young manhood, was to spend two whole months in 
his field, was, he felt, a providential interposition. 
Meetings were at once arranged to fill up the time, 
allowing the young man only one week of relaxation 
before entering upon the pleasant work of preaching 
Christ to sinners. 

The evening our young friends reached Leighton- 
ville, there was an impromptu meeting of the young 
people of the village at Mr. Gipson’s ; they came to 
share the joy of the re-union with the family. Leigh- 
tonville was one of those small towns of the long-ago, 
where, if one family had a source of happiness, all 
felt that they had a natural right to share it with them. 
No young gentleman or lady ever left the place to be 
gone a few months without going to see each family 
(about two excepted), to say and hear ‘‘that sweet 


THE CONTRAST. 


137 


old word, good-bx,;” ^i^d when they returned all were 
eager to signify their good will. 

The young men and maidens who gathered at Mr. 
Gipson’s on the night of Westerfield’s return from 
school, had the double satisfaction of seeing him in 
fine health and proud to be among them again, and 
also of forming the acquaintance of his friend Thom- 
son. The first week was spent in the village and its 
immediate vicinity. Thomson improved the time by 
forming acquaintances, especially among the young 
people. They found him a very genial companion, 
and the young men soon gave him their confidence 
as though he had been raised among them ; and when- 
ever he found he had gained his point in this particu- 
lar, he would urge them to seek religion, if they 
were unconverted, and if they professed faith in Christ, 
he pointed out some religious duty they might engage 
in to divine acceptance, and the increase of their own 
happiness and usefulness. In this way, our young 
friend made himself popular among them. The old 
members thought him peculiarly adapted to the work 
of the ministry; and when Westerfield told them 
that, at least, a part of his zeal for Christ, and the 
ease with which he approached the subject of relig- 
ion on all occasions, as, also, his readiness to say 
an apposite thing, was the result of his training in 
college, they were more than ever pleased with that 
institution. And if there was a lingering prejudice 
against it in the breast of any, this information and 
Thomson’s work among them, dissipated it. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


The week of rest had passed ; if that might be termed 
rest which was only a change of labor. The time 
had come for commencing the first meeting; this was 
at one of Mr. Thomas's churches twenty miles off. 
Mr. Gipson furnished the young preacher with a horse 
and saddle, at the same time telling him he was wel- 
come to the use of them during his entire stay. 

The old pastor found the young preacher a more 
than ordinarily pleasant traveling companion. They 
had left the village after early dinner, so as to reach 
Goshen before night. The scenery on the way was 
truly romantic ; and this evening nature seemed to be 
in one of her sweetest moods. The old pastor had 
-enjoyed this natural scenery many, many times, but 
it was new to his friend and brother. Scarcely a wild 
flower escaped his eye ; each had some attraction for 
-him peculiarly its own, and called forth many a ques- 
tion and many remarks indicating a well cultivated 
taste, and a heart brimming full of the love of nature 
and of nature’s God. Mr. Thomas entered into this 
episode with all the zest of a boy of eighteen. De- 

(138) 


THE CONTRAST. 


139 


nied the advantages of a collegiate course, he had 
studied, without a master, to be sure, but to good 
purpose nevertheless. In the grand old temple of 
Nature he had often held communion with the 
Father of Spirits, and studied ‘‘the wonderful works 
•of God.” He was not displeased, therefore, at the 
turn the conversation took as they were journeying 
toward their appointed work. 

After passing over a level tract of country, six or 
eight miles, they came to a beautiful little river which 
they crossed, and then followed the course of the 
stream eight miles. This part of their road was full 
of awful grandeur. Tributary streams wound along 
between rocky hills, which appeared like walls of im- 
mense hight when viewed from the water-bed below. 
When they came in sight of the first of these natural 
wonders, Thomson suddenly became silent, and the 
old preacher was too prudent to interrupt the train of 
reflections which, he saw at a glance, filled the young 
man’s soul with a sense of bewildering splendor, too 
sublime for words. As they entered one of the lanes, 
worn in the solid rock by the torrents which had 
poured through it for ages, our friends instinctively 
reigned up their horses, and gazed upon the glorious 
landscape in mute and solemn awe. Now the walls 
approached within a few feet of each other, and the 
sparkling water came hurrying through the narrow 
defile as if impatient of restraint ; then they fell back 
to a more respectful distance, almost suggesting the 
^dea of entire estrangement, while the water moved 


140 


THE CONTRAST. 


leisurely along as though it had found its final rest^ 
In the miniature plateaus of a few acres, hidden away 
between these insuperable walls, grew tall trees, which 
seemed never to have been shaken by the winds of 
winter, or scorched by the drouths of summer. Sym- 
metrical beauties of the forest, the centenaries stood, 
as on tiptoe, striving to look over the barriers that 
shut them in. The rich soil was covered with mosses, 
ferns and ivy, with here and there a shade-loving 
flower. 

Thomson looked as one entranced; he was living 
in a world of idealism. Fancy plumed her bright 
pinions, and went sailing through the by-gone cen- 
turies to creation’s dawn, 

“ When the morning stars sang together, 

And all the sons of God shouted for joy,” 

that another world, so full of beauty and sublimity,, 
was launched into the limitless expanse, to swell 
the eternal anthem of the spheres. The twain lin- 
gered in this sylvan retreat for an hour ere Thomson 
could quit its almost sacred bowers ; and when he fin- 
ally did so, it was with a sigh, followed by an excla- 
mation : 

“The gods might dwell forever in this hallowed 
vale! ” 

“The God does dwell here, my son. 

* Man He made, and for him built 
Magnificent this world,’ ” 

said the old pastor, smiling. 

“True, my brother,’^ answered our young friend,, 
and that is better ; but I was living in the past when 


THE CONTRAST. 


I4I 

I spoke, when * the world by wisdom knew not God , ' 
but had some indistinct ideas of his glorious attri- 
butes, and named each one a God." 

The conversation now took a more directly relig- 
ious turn, and, as they hastened over the few remain- 
ing miles of their journey, they talked of the crude 
ideas of the ancients relative to deity, and compared 
them to those entertained by modern heathens. The 
goodness of God to men, and especially to us *‘who 
know the joyful sound" of the heavenly bridegroom’s 
voice, had a wide place in the conversation, as it also 
had in the hearts, of the speakers. 

Thus another hour passed, and then they halted for 
the night at old Brother Moorman’s. The family was 
expecting them, for Brother Thomas had announced 
at the previous meeting that he would protract this 
one, and would reach the neighborhood the day be- 
fore commencing it. We will only note this fact, for 
the evening at Brother Moorman’s: Thomson learned 
from the father, in the course of the evening, how 
many of his children were, and how many were not, 
members of the church; he also learned the name of 
each unconverted child of the household. He was 
thus turning the parents’ thoughts at once to their 
children and the interest of the meeting. At bed 
time he was invited to pray with and for the family. 
This he did as one having power with God. And 
when he prayed for the salvation of the unconverted 
members of the family, he spoke their names, and 
pleaded with such heart-yearnings that each listener 


142 


THE CONTRAST. 


felt that God was truly in that place. When they- 
rose from their knees, the revival they longed to see- 
had commenced. 

The next day the church dispensed with the usual 
routine of business, as nothing of any importance re- 
quired their attention. Thomson preached from the 
sixth verse of the eighty-fifth psalm: ‘*0 Lord, wilt 
thou not revive us again that thy people may rejoice 
in Thee !” The leading object of the speaker was to 
stir up the membership to labor for a revival of relig- 
ion. He urged them to make sacrifices for this pur- 
pose — to pray for it — and to put forth personal efforts 
to bring it about. He concluded by presenting some 
of the grounds of rejoicing among Christians in times 
of revivals. Their own hearts were warmed with 
beams of love divine; their children and neighbors 
were converted; Satan, the arch enemy, was van- 
quished for the time being, and the redeemer’s king- 
dom was strengthened. He then asked the member- 
ship who among them would pledge themselves to- 
labor for a revival of their own languid graces, and 
and for the salvation of sinners. There was sweet, 
persuasive power in all he said, but there was a power 
above him at work in that assembly, God was there. 
The brethren had looked forward with longing hearts 
to the meeting, and earnestly pleaded that it might 
be “the set time to favor Zion and now they came 
forward, moved by a common impulse, and extended 
their hands, first to the preachers, and then to one 
another, while their tears attested the sincerity of 


THE CONTRAST. 1 43 

their hearts. Those were old fashioned times, but 
they were sweet times to Christian hearts. 

When the pastor preached in the evening he ad- 
dressed the unconverted, feeling that there was no 
further need of directing his discourse to the church. 
Each member was ready to do his duty; they had 
evidently been at work already ; and when an invita- 
tion was given to those who desired instruction or 
prayer to come forward and make it manifest, half a 
dozen young people rose up and took a seat near the 
pulpit, which had been designated for that purpose. 
The older members talked with them of ‘‘repentance 
toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. ''' 
A prayer, full of solemnity and earnest appeal, was 
offered in their behalf, and then that sweet old song 
was sung, “with the spirit and with the understand- 
ing also: 

“Show pity. Lord — O Lord forgive— 

Let a repenting sinner live!*' 

and thus the service closed for the day. 

From day to day the meeting continued with in- 
creasing interest. The people came in from adjoining 
neighborhoods, until the old log meeting-house would 
not hold even the ladies. And when the brethren 
saw the doors and windows filled with anxious listen- 
ers, they moved the seats to the grove outside, pro- 
vided others, and put up a sort of pulpit ; here the 
meeting was continued another week. Many re- 
joiced in a Savior’s love at its close, who, at its com- 
mencement, were thoughtless — as though they had 


144 


THE CONTRAST. 


no souls to save. Others, who had long sought him 
on barren deserts, inquiring of the ‘‘watchmen who 
go about the city,” saying, “Saw ye him whom my 
soul loveth?” now realized that he was the “chief 
among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely.” 
All felt that it was, indeed, a “refreshing from the 
presence of the Lord.” When the strangers in pass- 
ing asked, 

“ What means this great commotion ? # * 

The multitude in accents hushed replied — 

Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.” 

The time had come for our ministers to meet other 
engagements and the meeting closed. The church 
had been greatly strengthened in numbers, moral 
worth and personal piety. The leave-taking was ac- 
companied with many a “God bless you ! ” and “come 
again!” from the brethren, as they held young Thom- 
son’s hand in theirs. 

The meetings had been so arranged as to give each 
of Mr. Thomas’s churches two weeks, but when the 
third meeting was held, at Pleasuredell, there had 
been such a thorough work of grace in the adjacent 
churches that the brethren there had already received 
their blessing. Their children had attended the meet- 
ings in the other churches, and found the Savior pre- 
cious in the pardon of their sins. There was, there- 
fore, but little to work for in that church beyond the 
better development of its members. A few persons, 
“as those born out of due season,” made an open 
profession ; but it was decided to close here with the 


THE CONTRAST. 


145 


first week's work* This gave them an opportunity to 
commence in Leightonville nearly a week earlier than 
they had expected. This fact made them the more 
willing to close at Pleasuredell. Some of the coun- 
try members of the town church had been in the 
meetings, and were already in the spirit of the work. 
Mr. Thomson’s preaching seemed to improve with 
each meeting, and some of the brethren who had 
heard him in the country said, half in jest and half in 
earnest, that they did not believe he was trying until 
he got to town; they thought he had been saving 
himself all the time for the last ; that the ‘ ‘ best wine 
had been kept back until now.” Mr. Thomas said, 

' * it was natural they should think so. The more one 
feasts on gospel fatness the sweeter it is to their taste. 
This is the only feast which never cloys. Besides, it 
is to be expected that uninspired men will make some 
improvement in five or six weeks’ practice.” In a 
few days the whole town was under the influence of 
the meeting; not that all became religious, or were 
even concerned about it, for they were not; but so 
many were interested that opposers were overawed, 
and manifested an unusual respect for those who 
sought the way of life and for the work that was going 
on. There have been times ever since the introduc- 
tion of Christianity when there were such mighty dis- 
plays of grace that the world was forced to confess its 
divine origin, and even our enemies were made to 
''be at peace with us.” The preaching continued 
day and night for more than a fortnight, “and the 


146 


THE CONTRAST. 


Lord added to the church daily the saved.** Some of 
the most prominent citizens were brought in. Talent, 
influence and wealth were turned over to the cause of 
Christ. Mr. Gipson’s family shared in the general good. 
Westerfield only was left out. Perhaps there was a sel- 
fish desire for his conversion ; or it may have been that 
his parents looked for it as a matter of course, without 
feeling so deeply their dependence on God in his case as 
they did in every other. Whatever may have been the 
cause, their beloved boy was still a stranger to grace. 

“Westerfield troubles me,” said Mr. Gipson to his 
wife, as they talked of the gracious outpouring of the 
spirit the evening after the meeting closed. 

“Why does he trouble you?” queried his wife. 

“His apparent hardness makes me fear and trem- 
ble,” he answered, “lest I have made some great 
mistake in his training ; yet I know, if this is the case, 
I have done so ignorantly, believing honestly that I 
was doing the will of God; and surely my blessed 
Savior will forgive a sin committed in ignorance with 
the best of motives, and hoping at the same time to 
glorify Him in what I did.” 

“I am convinced, Mr. Gipson, that God will for- 
give a sin or mistake committed with such motives, 
but its forgiveness will not undo the evil effects on 
others. I may give my child arsenic, believing at the 
time it is some innocent medicine, and when I learn 
my mistake, ask and obtain pardon, but my child will 
die because of my mistake, notwithstanding my par- 
don is sealed. I think, however, that your mistake is 


THE CONTRAST. 


147 


in the fear that you have made one which is to prove 
fatal to Westerfield. He is not hard, as you suppose. 
Some part of God’s plan for saving men is unsuited to 
his carnal mind; he thinks he sees inconsistencies 
somewhere; or, it may be, Satan has suggested to 
him that he has sinned against too much light and 
knowledge to even hope for forgiveness. I am not 
discouraged. True, he has not obtained ‘the pearl 
of great price,’ but God’s Word is sure, and in that I 
read His promises to His people ; they can never fail. 
I shall continue to trust Him for His grace, and look for 
the conversion of our first-born. I gave him to God 
with his first breath, and I know He will not despise my 
gift. It was my all ; I had nothing else to give that was 
not already His. Husband, have we not often prayed 
with aching, anxious hearts for his salvation? Just as 
sure as we have so prayed, just that sure will God 
save our boy. Already we have seen him evincing a 
manly concern for his soul ; not a spasmodic interest, 
which comes only of excitement, but such an interest 
as the thoughtful might be expected to exhibit. We 
should not tempt the Almighty by refusing to accept 
the crumbs of His grace thus offered. Elijah did not 
consider the cloud too small to give assurance of rain, 
although it was no larger than his hand, and why 
should we dash the cup of blessing from our lips like 
a spoiled child because it is not overflowing with nec- 
tar? Rather let us go, like the widow in Zarepheth, 
to the cruise of oil when it is low, relying upon Om- 
nipotence for more.” 


148 


THE CONTRAST. 


Mrs. Gipson ceased to speak, and hoped her words 
might do her husband good. It was not a vain hope, 
for presently he remarked : 

“You have greatly encouraged my faith. We must 
learn to labor and to wait. Perhaps I have been im- 
patient. I will trust my Savior for all. How strange 
that after I have trusted my soul to Him in the fullest 
confidence, I should ever hesitate to trust Him with 
all else that concerns me ! But I am weak in all that 
relates to righteousness. May God pity and forgive 
my weakness and unbelief.” 

Thus the evening passed, until their children and 
Mr. Thomson returned from Mr. Bodyne’s, where 
they had been spending the evening. 

Thomson was only twenty-one years of age. He 
had been in college three years, and expected to grad- 
uate the next. His father had sent him to George- 
town because he wanted him under religious influ- 
ences while prosecuting his studies. His loyalty to 
Christ in this particular had been rewarded before the 
first year expired in the conversion of his son and his 
entrance upon a course of study adapted to the min- 
istry. -The church in Georgetown, having satisfactory 
evidence of his call to the ministry, licensed him to 
preach the gospel. The treasurer had been ordered 
to refund to him the forty dollars which he had paid 
in advance for the first year’s tuition, but Thomson 
declined it when a tender of the money was made, 
saying : 

“I was not a preacher when I paid that money, and 


THE CONTRAST. 


149 


I shall never miss it any way ; so you may use it at 
your own discretion for the benefit of some young 
man who may be hard pressed for means to get 
through college.” 

This generous act raised him high in the estimation 
of the faculty. He never forfeited their good opin- 
ion. The meetings in and around Leightonville 
were the first he had ever engaged in as the princi- 
pal help of the pastor. 

He had taken some part in several before, but had 
never felt that anything was depending on him until 
he engaged with Elder Thomas. Then he had felt, 
as never before, that he stood between the living and 
the dead ; that his words were to be “ the saver of 
life unto life, and of death unto death” to his hearers. 
He had, therefore, spoken from a full heart, as one 
who believed the message he brought to men. God 
was with him to bless his labors, and encourage him 
in his life-work. A hundred converts had been added 
to the four churches of Elder Thomas’s charge. The 
young preacher had often prayed that God would 
give him a soul saved by his instrumentality, as a 
seal to his ministry; and just like himself, God had 
answered far beyond his asking. 

Two days remained to him and Westerfield after 
closing the meeting in town, before starting back to 
school ; this time was spent at Mr. Gipson’s. There 
were many things to say before Westerfield left for 
another year’s absence. Much of it was not said, as 
is always the case. There was much to be done, and 


THE CONTRAST. 


150 

it was done. Willing hands were too busy for any- 
thing to be neglected. After every thing was secure- 
ly packed in his trunk, questions like the following 
were asked again and again: ‘*Is there anything 
more? Have we forgotten anything? Can I do any- 
thing more for you, my son? Brother, would you 
like to have so and so?” All this passed not unno- 
ticed by Thomson ; he was thinking of many things. 
He had, from the first evening of his arrival, observed 
the order, neatness and taste every where displayed. 
Yet nothing had the appearance of especial prepara- 
tion for an occasion ; every thing and every one in 
the house bore the appearance of unstudied ease and 
freedom. Nor had he been too blind to see that 
much of this air about the house was the result of the 
eldest daughter’s handicraft; and now that his work in 
the ministry was over for the time being, his thoughts 
were busy with other things : His return to college, 
his graduation at the end of another year’s toil, his 
settlement in some field where he might be useful. 
Would the field be in his native state, or in that where 
he first tasted the sweets of redeeming love? Was he 
to bear the labors, cares and anxieties of the pastor- 
ate alone, or share them with another? And now 
the image of Miss Mattie Gipson was photographed 
on his mind. He started, as if roused from a waking 
dream, and found this young lady had just entered 
the room where he had been for some time alone. 

The family was deep in the enjoyment of Wester- 
field’s society ; the nearer the time for parting came 


THE CONTRAST. 


I5I 

the more there was for each one to say to him. A 
more fastidious man than Thomson might have thought 
himself neglected, but he had too much sense to in- 
dulge in any such an idea ; he had parents and sisters, 
and he understood the value of a few moments spent 
in the confidence of the home circle ; besides, he was 
fond of holding communion with his own thoughts 
sometimes, and that evening was one of those seasons 
when he realized the pleasure of being alone. But 
he had finished the forecasting dream of his life, and 
how opportune the entrance of Miss Mattie ! Even 
if her entrance had broken the chain of his reverie, 
he thought it would have been pleasant to have it 
broken thus. The young lady^appeared not to notice 
the little start he made when she entered, but spoke 
thoughtfully : 

“We shall feel quite lonely for a few days, Mr. 
Thomson, after you and brother leave us.” 

“And I have been thinking, among other things, 
that Westerfield and I would feel lonely even among 
our fellow students, for some time to come,” said he; 
“and I had about made up my mind to ask a favor 
of you before leaving, which, if granted, will tend to 
beguile the tedium of the time with me.” 

“Why, I don’t see just now how I could contribute 
anything to this end,” said Mattie; “yet if I could, 
in any reasonable way, chase the clouds of ennui 
away, I should not object to the service. What favor 
do you ask?” 

* ‘ I thought of asking the favor and privilege of cor- 


152 


THE^ONTRAST. 


responding with you. I feel like it would not only 
‘ drive dull cares away, ’ but there would be a refining 
influence in it which most men need, when cooped 
up at school for a >ear at a time.” 

Mattie blushed and hesitated. 

‘ ‘ I mean nothing. Miss Mattie, but what is honor- 
able. I have felt the need of ‘such a friend as I pro- 
pose to find in you, for the last three years, and this 
last year at school will be my most irksome one ; the 
months will drag wearily along, and a sympathizing 
letter from you would, as I said, beguile the hours. I 
will show every letter to your brother, if you desire it, 
before I send it, and he shall read yours to me. 
Shall I have your promise? ” 

‘ ‘ I did not hesitate, Mr. Thomson, because I could 
not trust a minister of the gospel, but my parents 
have always told me that I must not engage to corre- 
spond with any gentleman without their permission, 
and I hesitated on that account. I must consult them 
before I answer you.” 

Thomson looked pleased and happy, as he replied: 

‘ ‘ I respect you, Miss Mattie, a thousand times more 
for your obedience to that wholesome restriction of 
your parents. If all parents dealt so with their 
daughters, and all daughters confided as you do in 
their parents, there would be less misery and shame 
in the world.” 

He now proposed to ask Mr. Gipson for his con- 
sent to the correspondence. Mattie again hesitated 
a moment, and then answered : 


THE CONTRAST. 


153 


**1 would not object to this course in this particular 
instance, but the precedent, I think, might not be 
very safe. I am the eldest daughter, and my young- 
er sisters will expect to do as I have done ; and if I 
send a gentleman to father on such an errand, they 
will not hesitate to do the same thing, and my father, 
perhaps, would not feel as free to express an opinion 
of a gentleman when addressing him, as he would if 
speaking in the confidence of parental affection. I 
would prefer asking him myself, if you please.” 

Thomson’s admiration of the girl and her principles 
scarce had bounds. ; 

**1 only thought to relieve you of what would be to 
most young ladies an embarrassing task; nothing 
more. But I think you are right again in preferring to 
relieve your father of all restraint in giving his advice. 
I shall await your and his decision.” 

*‘You have mistaken me and my parents, if you 
have supposed I could have a secret which would em- 
barrass me to make known to them. I have been 
accustomed from my infancy to tell them every sorrow 
and every joy I have ever known. I think I have as- 
suaged the former and increased the latter by so doing.’' 

The conversation turned to other subjects, and was 
continued until supper was announced. Westerfield 
and the younger girls sat with the preacher in the 
parlor for half an hour after the meal was dispatched, 
and then Mattie came in. An opportunity soon 
offered for her to tell him he was at liberty to write to 
her, and that she would do her best to interest him in 


154 


THE CONTRAST. 


reply. He thanked her, and declared he would con- 
sider himself the happiest student in Georgetown. 

The family did not retire until after the stage had 
called for our young friends. Parting words were 
spoken — a shaking of hands — mother and sisters kissed 
away the tears upon the son and brother’s cheeks — 
the father sobbed, ‘‘God bless you, my son!” — and 
they were gone. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


Five years have passed since William T. Hostell left 
Leightonville. Perhaps no member of the clan with 
which he had identified himself had served it with 
more zeal than he. His object in the first place was 
to make it pay, as he said himself. In this intention 
he had succeeded. He was the man of almost all 
others to impose on the imsuspecting. His con- 
science had never been developed, and what it was 
naturally he did not know. He looked back upon its 
monitions as the cowardice of childhood. For years 
he had known nothing of the kind. ‘‘Seared as with 
a hot iron” in the very beginning of his life, con- 
science slept 

“The sleep that knows no waking” 

on this side of the grave. Self was the law of his 
being. He had never a scruple with regard to the 
right or wrong of any act which might minister to his 
own gratification. Happiness is not the word. He 
might be gratified, but never happy. Satan never 
gives happiness. He can not. Desires that are bred 
in hell and born in earth he may gratify ^ but nothing 

(155) 


156 


THE CONTRAST. 


more. Having no such drawback as a conscience, 
William had never spared or pitied the poor, the 
ignorant, or the friendless. He had fleeced all alike 
whenever they were in his power. He thought he 
had made his business pay. 

Reader, what do you think of it? Is there gold 
enough in Peru to induce you to put your boy in his 
condition? If so — if you would like to see him with- 
out moral principle, “without hope and without God 
in the world ” — just put him in a dram-shop ! 

But there is another point in William’s experience 
relative to the band with which he stood connected to 
which I will direct your attention. When he entered 
their company he felt that now he had something to 
love ! Before taking this fearful step he had loved a 
nameless, intangible monstrosity, whose attributes 
were the panders of every evil desire. In the band 
of outlaws, of which he was now a member, he saw 
tangibility given to the demon-goddess of his depraved 
fancy, and gave it all the love his blackened soul was 
capable of bestowing. And when he took the horrid 
oath at its altar, he took it all without the least men- 
tal reservation. F rom that moment he was a murderer 
at heart. Kneeling at the infernal altar, in token of 
his entire surrender of himself to and for the com- 
pany, he inwardly resolved to do its bidding at every 
hazard. With oaths too black to see beyond, he 
leaped forward to destruction with the madness of all 
the furies. 

One act of outlawry calls for others to hide it; and 


THE CONTRAST. 


157 


a succession of such acts exposes the perpetrators to 
detection. And, though vengeance may often seem 
to wait, his sword will presently leap from its scabbard 
and smite with all the more power and precision for 
the delay. Go* with me to Georgia now, my patient 
reader, and we shall there find an instance of ven- 
geance overtaking the guilty. 

A Mr. Villano, of the dark clan of which we have 
been writing; having failed to obliterate his tracks as 
carefully as some others had done, was arrested in 
Georgia and held to answer to the charge of fDassing 
counterfeit money. A country merchant had been 
imposed on by him, and was thereby led to suspect 
him. He therefore put in operation a series of efforts 
by which to satisfy himself, and, if possible, detect 
and bring to j ustice the guilty party. His plans were 
crowned with success. The case was a plain one ; the 
proof was positive, and there was little chance to ex- 
tricate him from the clutches of the law by bribery. 
But few men are willing to declare a man ‘‘not guilty,” 
when an infamous crime has been committed against 
society, and the accused is proved guilty by a chain of 
evidence which can not be contravened. ' There may 
be sufficient depravity to love the offered bribe, but 
the fear of public opinion acts as a wholesome restraint 
upon their cupidity. Whether this fear of being 
branded by the public as a party to the crfme, or a 
more healthy state of morals had prevailed in the 
community and the court, we need not now inquire. 
It is sufficient that the accused was tried and found 


158 


THE CONTRAST. 


guilty, and so hurried off to the penitentiary. The 
merchant had, therefore, incurred the mortal hatred of 
the whole pack. His testimony was too full, too con- 
clusive, and showed too clearly the part he had taken 
in the plan for entrapping the prisoner, for him to es- 
cape their ire. A price was, therefore, set upon his 
life, at their first meeting after the conviction of Vil- 
lano. A thousand dollars was offered to any member 
of the diabolical fraternity who would dispatch him. 

William T. Hostell had given his associates full evi- 
dence of his high capacity for evil before, but he was 
desirous of the black honor of excelling in fidelity to 
the interests of the brotherhood. His highest ambi- 
tion was to be considered the most loyal of all the 
clan — the readiest to serve it in deeds of daring atro- 
city. And now an opportunity offered by which he 
might gain the object of his high ambition, and at the 
same time add gold to his accumulations. A well- 
aimed blow from his right arm would earn for him the 
wages of months, and crown him with the laurels he 
coveted. What was it to him that these garlands grew 
only in the “plain of Sodom ?” They were the more 
desirable on that account. To be thrice damned by 
honest people was the crowning glory to which he as- 
pired. The deeper he could sink himself in the esti- 
mation of these, the higher he would rise in the good 
opinion of his associates. He, therefore, resolved to 
be the avenger of Villano’s misfortune. Accordingly 
he proceeded to the neighborhood where the afore- 
mentioned merchant lived, and surveyed the premises ; 


THE CONTRAST. 


159 


took note of the business in all its parts, as carried on 
by the victim of his hate. A few weeks after the reward 
was offered for the taking of this man’s life, his mur- 
derer was engaged, and the plan perfected by which 
the deed was to be accomplished. 

The following announcement, in a newspaper pub- 
lished in a neighboring town, soon astonished and 
alarmed the people of that part of Georgia: 

Burglary and Assassination. 

On the night of last Thursday the store of Mr. 
John Markander, in Bibb County, was feloniously 
entered, and Markander (who was sleeping in the 
counting-room) was brutally murdered. No clue to 
the offenders at last advices.” 

The next issue of the paper gave the further infor- 
mation that the family with which Markander boarded, 
living a few hundred yards from the store, was up 
later than usual on the night of the murder with a 
sick child; ‘*and they state,” said the writer in the 
paper, ‘ ‘ that some one called at the yard gate late at 
night, and asked if Markander was at the store, and 
on receiving an affirmative answer, two men rode off 
in the direction of the store. Markander did not 
come to breakfast the next morning, and the gentle- 
man of the house went to the store to see v/hat was 
the matter, and discovered the shocking work of the 
night. He at once called in the neighbors, and they 
examined the premises carefully without being able to 
make any discoveries which might lead to the appre- 
hension of the guilty parties. Their search on the 


i6o 


THE CONTRAST. 


outside of the house was attended with but little better 
success than they had on the inside. Horses’ tracks 
confirmed the statement made by the gentleman at 
whose house Markander boarded, that there were two 
persons concerned. Each horse was shod all around, 
and they left the place in an opposite direction from 
that by which they approached it. But little more 
than this seems likely ever to be known.” 

The news of the murder had spread rapidly in the 
community. The burial was postponed until the 
second day in order to give the coronor an opportun- 
ity to hold an inquest. On the day of burial there 
were a great many people present, and among them 
a gentleman from Kentucky, who had been in the 
neighborhood for several days with a drove of horses ; 
expecting a large crowd, he had attended the funeral 
to further his sales. Hearing something said about 
the horse tracks, he with others, examined them. 
Some persons noticed that he looked at them with 
greater care than others — more like he expected to find 
something more than they did. He finished selling 
his stock in a day or two, and started home. It was 
presently remarked by some one, that Wm. T. 
Hostell had not been seen in the neighborhood since 
Markander’s death. Inquiry at a sort of hotel a few 
miles off where he was known to have been stopping, 
elicited the further fact that he left there on Thurs- 
day morning, saying he was going to Kentucky. 
Suspicion began to rest heavily on him and the 
drover. In a short time, however, it was known that 


THE CONTRAST. 


i6i 


the latter gentleman stayed all night with a planter 
seven or eight miles off on the very night of the mur- 
der, and could not have been off the premises, he 
and his host being up until late bedtime and his being 
wakened before day the next morning by some of 
the family, entirely and satisfactorily exculpated him ; 
but suspicion still clung to Hostell. Rewards were 
offered for the culprits, and the matter seemed to rest. 

Hostell felt easy when he learned there were no 
names given in any publication on the subject ; he 
was blissfully ignorant of the existence of any sus- 
picion resting on him. It was well for society that he 
was. The reader is of course aware that he was the 
guilty man. After-events brought out the facts. He 
had taken one of his brother counterfeiters into part- 
nership with him in order to make sure work in case 
of an accident at the store. This man was to meet 
him on the day before the appointed night for the ac- 
complishment of the bloody work, at a point agreed 
on between them, a few miles from Hostell’s stopping 
place. Here they had met, and leaving the highway, 
turned into a deep hollow overgrown with underbrush, 
where they spent the day together in perfecting their 
plans and drilling each other in the part each was to 
play in the tragedy of the coming evening. 

When darkness covered the earth, and gross dark- 
ness their hearts and minds, they cautiously moved 
out of their retreat and rode slowly and silently 
towards Markander’s; passing his boarding house, 
they saw the light, and, supposing he might be there, 

II 


THE CONTRAST. 


162 

they called at the fence and learned that he was at 
the store. This created no suspicion in the family at 
the time, as it was a common thing for customers to 
ask that question as they passed the house, especially 
after dark. They stealthily fastened their horses a 
short distance off, and then William knocked at the 
door. Markander must have been awake, for he 
responded to the first call, and asked, “Who is 
there? ” William answered, giving a fictitious name, 
and said he had “a sick horse and wanted some 
spirits of turpentine.” Whereupon Markander opened 
the door (he had lighted a candle) and let him in. 
Hostell watched his opportunity, and as the merchant 
turned his back to him and stooped to get the tur- 
pentine from a box beneath the shelves, struck him 
on the back part of the head with a slug of lead pre- 
pared for the purpose, crushing in the skull, and mak- 
ing it unnecessary to repeat the blow. His accom- 
plice was stationed outside to watch and give the 
alarm in case any one should approach the premises, 
and to prevent escape if Hostell failed to strike a 
deadly blow. The work of death so easily accom- 
plished, it was but the work of a moment to open 
the till and rifle it of its principal contents. Hostell 
was so intent on gain, that he could not forego the 
pleasure of adding this to the price he was to get for 
the blood he had shed, and while his victim was yet 
convulsed in the agony of death, he coolly opened his 
drawer and pocketed his money. Having finished 
the terrible work he came to do, he and his friend 


THE CONTRAST. 


Struck off at a brisk rate, taking the road to Kentucky. 
The drover, of whom we have before spoken, did see 
something in the horse tracks that others would not 
be likely to notice. He had caused a mark to be put 
on the shoe worn on the right hind foot by each horse 
in his drove, that he might be able to track them in the 
event one should stray or be stolen ; this mark he had re- 
cognized in the tracks on the day of the burial. He had 
sold a horse to Hostell a few days before ; he was, there- 
fore, prepared to look out for the culprit with some 
prospect of finding him. Not that he expected to 
track the horse by the shoe-mark, but he knew by 
that mark that he had sold the horse that made the 
tracks he had examined, and he knew what sort of 
horse he had sold to Hostell, and, therefore, knew 
what sort of horse to inquire for as he traveled home- 
wards. He naturally concluded that the assassins would 
travel all the remaining part of the night, and, even 
if they should take the road he expected to travel on 
his way home, it would be useless to inquire for them 
under twenty miles from Markander’s. 

When he started home he hurried over about as 
many miles as he supposed they would be likely to 
measure off by daylight the morning after the crime, 
and then he inquired at every house for two rnen who 
would doubtless have some of the marks of travelers, 
one of them riding on an iron-gray horse, etc. He 
inquired at but three or four houses until he was satis- 
fied they had traveled that road. One man told him 
he ^ ^ saw two men pass his house a little after daylight 


i64 


THE CONTRAST. 


on Friday morning ; their horses seemed tired, and he 
wondered at the time if they had traveled all night.'' 
A mile or two further on he learned they had got 
breakfast at a farm house ; the gentleman stated that 
“the horses had evidently been ridden the greater 
part of the previous night," and one of them answered 
the description of the horse the drover had sold to 
Hostell. He was now convinced that Hostell was 
concerned in the murder, and that he was on his 
track. Although he was nearly a week behind, he 
had good hope of coming up with him. The farm- 
er with whom the fugitives took breakfast had changed 
a twenty dollar bill for the man on the gray horse ; 
this bill the drover secured. It was on a Virginia 
bank. Mr. Draffer had sense enough to see that a 
money bill of that size and so far from home would 
be easily traced. In Tennessee he found they had 
separated. The inference was natural that one of 
them lived in Tennessee. But he was still on the 
track of Hostell; he had no difficulty in tracing him 
to Green River, in Kentucky ; then he lost all trace of 
him. He very naturally concluded that the “game 
had flown.” So far as he was concerned, he had but 
one hope left of being the lucky man to bring the 
guilty to justice, and get the rewards which had been 
offered. Of the ground of his hope we shall speak 
hereafter. We will, for the present, take the reader 
back to the neighborhood where the murder was com- 
mitted. 

Eighteen or twenty miles from the store lived the 


THE CONTRAST. 


165 

Markander family. The merchant was a single man. 
His father and brother were sent for as soon as the 
death of John was known, and were present at the 
burial. The old man took possession of the store and 
locked it up for a week or two, and then invoiced the 
goods and put his younger son into the business. Not 
many days after this young man was installed, one of 
the customers came in and, like every body else, 
asked a good many questions relative to the homicide. 
Among others, he asked ‘Tf John had any money on 
hand." The young merchant told him “there was a 
little change in the drawer; that Mr. Lenard (the 
man with whom John boarded) and some of the 
neighbors had examined the till early in the morning 
after the killing, and found nothing but some small 
change." This customer then told him he had paid 
his brother a twenty dollar bill on a Virginia bank 
just the day before he was killed; and he said, “you 
will find the credit on the book; I saw John put it 
there, and he also made a memorandum of the bill. 

I would be able to identify the bank-note if I were 
ever to see it again." Young Markander turned to 
Agen’s account and found the credit as he stated. 
Then turning to the memorandum book, he found a 
statement that he had that day received a Virginia 
bank-note of Mr. Agen, giving the number of the 
note, etc. Agen then said: “I had put a private 
mark on it which no one will ever notice without 
having it first pointed out to him ; and I did it because 
the bill was a long way from home, and I did not 


THE CONTRAST. 


I 66 

know whether it would pass very readily in this state 
or not. Your brother said it was as good to him as 
Georgia money, as he would send it East for goods. 
I told him then that I had a mark on it, but did not 
show it to him.” 

Here was some slight chance for detecting the 
guilty man. Markander then turned the leaves of the 
memorandum book thoughtfully, and presently re- 
marked : 

“The murderer got that bill. Here is an entry 
made two days before you paid in the twenty dollars, 
showing that he sent off money to the amount of two 
hundred dollars on that day, and he would not be at 
all likely to send again in so short a time; and besides, 
it is full two months before the time for collecting, 
and he would not get in enough money in two days 
to make another remittance.” 

This was, when taken altogether, very conclusive 
evidence that whoever killed Markander also robbed 
his money drawer, but was no evidence against any 
one in particular. 

About this time the sheriff heard of a stranger’s 
staying at Mrs. Villano’s on Wednesday night before 
the killing of Markander. On questioning the family 
relative to this man, they seemed to know nothing 
about him, only he appeared to be traveling and re- 
quested the privilege of staying all night, and that he 
had left the next morning in the direction of Athens 
— which happened to be in the direction of the inn 
where Hostell had been quartered while in the com- 


THE CONTRAST. 


167 

munity. The road forked, however, between Villano’s 
and the inn, and no one could tell which he purposed 
traveling on. The sheriff (who made this inquiry of 
Villano’s family), therefore, went to the tavern and 
asked whether or not such a man passed there on 
Thursday morning ; the innkeeper said he was quite 
sure that no one passed. “For,” said he, “ I was 
out in the barn-lot all the forenoon, from the time 
Hostell left until dinner overseeing some work, and 
no one could have passed without my seeing him.” 
The sheriff then asked what direction Hostell took 
when leaving the inn, and was told that he started in 
the direction of Macon. He now felt sure that Hos- 
tell and the stranger from Villano’s must have met at 
or near the fork of the road, that place being about 
equal distance from the starting point of each. He, 
therefore, returned to the fork, and, taking the road 
to Canton (which they must have traveled if they left 
the neighborhood), made strict inquiry at every house 
for miles, but no one had seen strangers pass that day. 
At the last house where he inquired he was told by 
the man of the house, that he and several hired hands 
were at work on the side of the road all day, and 
could not have failed to observe any parties who might 
have passed. He was now pretty well satisfied that 
Hostell and this stranger were the homicides, and 
that they had lain concealed somewhere in the vicin- 
ity of the forks during the day. He turned his steps 
once more toward that point, and when he had 
again reached it he paused, looked around and rea- 


i68 


THE CONTRAST. 


soned until he came to the conclusion that if two men 
had met there, who were not well acquainted with the 
face of the country, to perfect plans for the death of 
an innocent man, they would seek concealment in the 
thickets near by. There was, in sight of the forks, a 
deep hollow making down from the road. Our sher- 
iff rode slowly down this hollow, and had not gone 
far until he saw that shod horses had passed down that 
way some time before. The slides made by the horses’ 
hoofs on steep places were distinctly visible. Follow- 
ing up his advantage, he was soon into a thicket 
which completely hid from view every object at the 
distance of a few paces. Here he found the lair. 
The horses, tied up all day, had left signs not to be 
mistaken. The earth was beaten hard under their 
feet, and the bushes were barked by their teeth, and 
the twigs were cropped as far around as the halters 
would permit. There were also signs of the presence 
of more brutal beasts than the horses. Human be- 
ings had evidently lain a few yards from the steeds on 
the thick moss that carpeted the earth under a wide- 
spreading oak. At the root of another tree, a few 
yards off, were the fragments of a broken bottle. 
The sheriff carefully gathered them up and took them 
home with him. The neck and shoulders of this 
bottle were entire, and showed it to have been a pint 
flask. These fragments were .afterward shown to 
the innkeeper, and identified as part of a bottle he 
sold to Hostell the morning he left his house. The 
officer was now convinced, beyond all doubt, that 


THE CONTRAST. 


169 


Hostell was the guilty man, but how to find and cap- 
ture him, he knew not. He had the good sense, how- 
ever, to take several other gentlemen to the hiding 
place in the woods, so that this link in the testimony, 
if it should ever be needed, should not depend alone 
on his testimony for its establishment. We must 
now return to Kentucky. 

Drafifer had bought the horse he sold to Hostell of 
a near neighbor of his. The one hope (of which we 
promised something more) he had of capturing the 
murderer laid in this fact: The horse might stray from 
its owner and return to the farm where it was raised, 
and be followed by the right man. This was his 
hope. He, therefore, offered a reward to any one, 
who, finding the horse astrayr would bring him to 
his place. In the meantime, he received a letter from 
the afore-mentioned sheriff telling him to keep a sharp 
lookout for Hostell; that there was no longer a doubt 
of his guilt, and to arrest him without fail if an op- 
portunity ever offered; that he would be responsible 
for all damages at law, etc. 

Draffer wrote to friends living in some of the up- 
per Green River counties, asking aid in ferreting out 
the guilty man. This proved to be unnecessary, for, 
in a short time, the horse was found in his old haunts. 
Draffer now made pretty sure of his game ; only one 
thing could militate against it: Hostell may have 
parted with him. But even in that case, he would 
stand some chance to find out where he was. He was 
too wise, however, to lose any advantage by giving 


170 


THE CONTRAST. 


way to thoughts of what might be. He sold the horse 
to Hostell, and he would not believe he was the prop- 
erty of another until he was forced to believe it. Was 
it not providential that the horse should come back 
to where he was raised? Was not God moving in the 
matter to bring the guilty to justice? So Drafifer 
thought, and so lost no advantage his Creator put be- 
fore him. Accordingly he posted the horse, and placed 
him in a stable in the county seat, with orders to let 
him know without a moment’s delay if the horse were 
called for. No one knew why he was thus careful, 
yet all knew he had good reasons for it, for he always 
acted with reason. The next thing he did was to 
get a writ for the arrest of Hostell, and place it in the 
hands of the sheriff. This was done very privately, 
for he had learned from the sheriff in Georgia that 
circumstances clearly showed the murder of Markan- 
der grew out of the part he took in the conviction of 
Villano. It was, therefore, believed that there was a 
band of counterfeiters extending all over the country, 
and they had procured the murder of Markander. 
Draffer knew from these circumstances it would not 
do to allow any publicity of his actions, lest his hope 
of finding Hostell should be dashed. 

A week passed, and Mr. Hostell rode up to Draf- 
fer’s stile ! He was yet the owner of the horse, and 
had come seeking him. Draffer told him he was in 
the ** stray stable” in town. “I will go with you,” 
said he, ‘*and swear that I sold you the horse, and 
there will be no difficulty in getting him.” Accord- 


THE CONTRAST. 


I7I 

ingly they went to a magistrate in town — which was 
but a mile from Draffer’s — and William proved his 
property, and the horse was delivered to him. The 
sheriff, who had been notified, was on hand, and, as 
Hostell took his horse by the bridle, this official 
tapped him lightly on the shoulder and informed him 
that he was, for the present, his prisoner, charged with 
the murder of John Markander, of the state of 
Georgia ! 


CHAPTER XV. 


We will leave young Hostell in the hands of the 
officers of the law for a while, and go back a few 
years to see what has become of our friends in 
Georgetown. Thomson’s last year in school, in- 
stead of being the most irksome, as he expected, 
turned out to be the most pleasant of the four he had 
spent in Kentucky. His studies were comparatively 
easy, being, for the most part, a review of what he 
had already passed over. Those which were new 
were easily mastered. Study had become a sort of 
second nature to him, and he found his mind so thor- 
oughly disciplined that it craved something to do. 
He had more time to devote to the study of theology 
than ever before. In this he found an ever-widening 
field, where there was “no end, no bound,” except 
the capacity of the student. There was in this study 
a stimulus to effort which he had not felt, at least so di- 
rectly, in any other. Since his successes in and around 
Leightonville, he had realized an increasing interest 
in all that pertained to the work of the ministry. If 
he were called on to solve a difficult problem in math- 

(172) 


THE CONTRAST. 


173 


ematics, he went at it with a will well calculated 
to strengthen and discipline the mind to close and ac- 
curate reasoning. This he thought he would need in 
his efforts to convince men's judgments of sin and 
error. And when he delved in the languages of the 
past — this, thought he, will enable me to understand 
more of God’s Word than I could without it. Thus 
all he did was done with direct reference to his great 
life-work. Another source of pleasure to him, and 
one which tended no little to lighten his burdens, was 
his Leightonville correspondent. He found in Miss 
Mattie Gipson no mean writer. Each letter he received 
from her was a source of happiness, bringing as it did 
all the news, with none of the gossip of the town. 
He seemed to stand in her presence and hear her 
voice utter each word as he read it from the page her 
hand had traced. Her form, her features and her 
graces were pictured to his mind in each epistle ; but 
what was still more agreeable, each one contained 
some hints on Bible subjects, which he found easy to 
turn into a sermon for future use. 

Thus the year passed rapidly away, and at its close 
Thomson took his Bachelor's degree with high honor. 
He and Westerfield talked together of their home- 
ward trip. They would leave Georgetown on Friday 
evening; Westerfield would reach home before the 
Sabbath, but Thomson would have to lie over on the 
road or travel on the Lord’s day. This he felt con- 
scientiously opposed to doing; so his friend Gipson 
suggested that it would be but little off his direct line 


174 


THE CONTRAST. 


of travel to go with him to Leightonville and spend 
the Sabbath there ; that his friends would be glad to 
see him and hear him preach again. This conversa- 
tion passed between them about a week before the 
close of the school term. If Thomson hesitated at 
first, his mind was fully made up to accept the invita- 
tion when, a day or two afterward, Westerfield showed 
him a letter from his father, in which he also made 
the proposition that Mr. Thomson should spend the 
Sabbath in Leightonville. Mr. Gipson not only 
thought the people would like to hear him again, but 
believed a sermon or two by him would be of special 
benefit to those who joined the church the year before. 
Westerfield dispatched a hasty note by return mail, 
saying to his father that his friend Thomson would 
remain over Sabbath with them. 

Commencement week, with all its hopes and fears, 
its joys and sorrows, passed as others had done before 
it, ^Svithout waiting for the lame and lazy,” or hurry- 
ing past to suit the eager and impatient. Its inexorable 
exactions complied with, our friends, Thomson and 
Gipson, left by the evening stage for Leightonville, 
where they arrived about sundown the next evening. 
The same glad scenes of the year before were wit- 
nessed, with less reserve in meeting Mr. Thomson 
than there was when they met him as a stranger. So 
cordial were the greetings now that he could scarcely 
realize that a whole year had passed between the two 
meetings. It seemed but yesterday that he stood 
among the same people, telling the story of the Cross ; 


THE CONTRAST. 


175 


and when, on the Sabbath, he stood in the same 
pulpit, and looked at the same eager, anxious faces, 
the old fire of the year before came back, and he felt 
it warm his heart and tingle in his blood. His dis- 
courses that day were full of life and pathos. The 
old pastor said ‘ ‘ it did his heart good to know that 
as he and his co-laborers wore out in the cause of 
Christ, and dropped their mantles in the fields of their 
toil, God was raising up others to wear them ; that 
when the sword fell from their nerveless hands, others 
would be ready to grasp and wield it to better ad- 
vantage than they had done." 

He told the brethren that Brother Thomson would 
leave for his distant home the next morning, and they 
could not all have an opportunity of taking him by the 
hand in private. He was now entering upon his life- 
work, and would often feel the need of the prayers of 
his brethren. ‘ ‘ Let us, " continued the old man, ‘ ‘give 
him the parting hand to-night, and with it the assur- 
ance of our prayers and sympathy. Do this, my 
friends, and when trials and disappointments shall 
make him feel as if life were a dreary waste, he will 
look back to this evening as to an oasis in the wide 
desert." It was a sight worth seeing when the whole 
congregation, as if moved by a single impulse, rose 
and walked forward, extending the hand of affectionate 
sympathy, while those who could, sang: 

“ Farewell to thee, brother, we meet but to part, 

And sorrow is mingling with joy in each heart”. 

On the way from church, Thomson asked Mattie 


176 


THE CONTRAST. 


Gipson if she would continue the correspondence with 
him, assuring her that it had been a source of great 
pleasure to him during the past year. “And,” he 
added, “it has been profitable to me in many ways, 
as well as pleasant. I have felt its refining influence 
as though I were in your presence, and I have seldom 
received a letter from you that I have not drawn a ser- 
mon from. Besides, I think I have more religion than 
I should have had without such a correspondence.” 

‘ ‘ I am thankful if I have contributed any thing to 
your happiness or usefulness, and, if you desire it, I 
shall not object to continue my eflbrts. I too have 
been religiously benefited by it, and feel that any thing 
which aids me in the divine life is of service enough 
to be continued.” 

The evening passed all too soon for all the friends. 
Morning came, and Thomson left for other scenes and 
other friends. 

Two years away from the loved ones at home ! Oh, 
how anxious one gets to see them in that time, and 
how slowly a train of cars moves on the homeward 
run ! But there were no cars to accommodate travel- 
ers at the time of which we write ; a lumbering old 
stage was the fleetest carrier then. Doubled up in 
this for days together, with fellow-passengers enough 
to make their little world a rolling salamander, the 
time literally wote away. Still, perseverance wore 
away the distance as it did the time ; each day brought 
friends nearer together or placed a greater distance 
between them. The homeward-bound feel their anx- 


THE CONTRAST. 


177 


ieties increase in proportion as the distance lessens ; and 
when there is but one more day to bear the heat and 
dust and jolt and worry till we leap into the arms of 
the watchers, Oh, how long that day appears! — how 
many delays! — how vexatious the drivers of stages 
and the conductors of trains! — how long and steep 
the hills! — what unaccountably rough roads! — what 
stupid, lazy horses drag us over these ! The last mile ! 
We count the jolts, and think each one will be the last. 
In sight! We instinctively rise from the hated seat. 
‘*Oh, there they stand on the lookout!” We wave 
our hat ; the little ones come flying toward the road, 
forgetful of every thing but their great joy; father, 
mother, grown-up sister, all are there — the reunion is 
complete, the joy full. 

It was thus at Mr. Thomson’s when Joseph returned. 
Four years before he left them, a thoughtless young 
man, to obtain an education — for what purpose he 
knew not. He has returned to the home of his youth 
and the bosom of parental love, a Christian and a min- 
ister. He left t^em not knowing but he would return 
to settle down as a farmer, and soon forget the tri- 
umphs of his college life. But he has come back with 
an object before him which well might fill an angel’s 
mind — in the pursuit of which he would need, and 
could use, the education he had toiled to obtain. 
There were thankful hearts in the dear old home that 
night. There was too much happiness for expression. 

The next day his parents and the companions of his 
childhood heard him preach for the first time. How 
(12) 


i;8 


THE CONTRAST. 


strange this seemed to them all ! * ‘ Can it be our own 

Joseph?” his mother would say with a mother’s pride, 
and his father would answer, ‘ ‘ My cup runneth over, 
for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with me.” 

Joseph remained at his father’s about a year and a 
half, or, rather, made that his home, for he was out 
preaching most of the time. He then received a call 
to become the pastor of a church in Kentucky. This 
he accepted at once and bade farewell to Georgia. 
On his way to his field he stopped in Leigtonville long 
enough to avow his affection for Miss Mattie Gipson, 
and to learn that it was reciprocated. He was to receive 
a salary which would be sufficient for the maintenance 
of a family, and he was confident he could be more 
useful with Mattie to aid him than he could if left to 
buffet the waves alone. A month after entering upon 
his pastoral work he informed the brethren of his in- 
tention to be absent the next Sabbath, and would 
return on Thursday “leading about a wife, a sister.” 
This pleased the brethren. The elder deacon asked 
him if he intended keeping house, or if he vvould still 
board. He told him he would boarcJ until he could 
secure a house, but no longer. “The lady,” said he, 
“whom I have chosen as a partner for life, is very 
domestic in her habits and prefers keeping house.J’ 
Nothing more was said. Thomson was gone nearly 
two weeks, and in his absence the brethren of his 
charge rented a neat little cottage in the outskirts of 
the town and furnished it from parlor to larder. They 
did this as a free-will offering ; and, to make all com- 


THE CONTRAST. 


179 


piete, a good and trusty servant was placed in the 
kitchen. The evening the young pastor drove into 
town with his bride, the old deacon met them, and, 
after greeting them cordially and bidding Mrs. Thom- 
son welcome to the community, he told them to come 
with him. Thomson said no ; they would go to his 
room at the hotel ; that they were tired, and would 
feel more at home there. The old deacon spoke as 
one having authority” when he said: “No, sir; you 
will go with me for the present.” The young man 
smiled as he turned his horse’s head and followed as 
directed. At the cottage they were met by several 
sisters, who had supper ready. The young couple 
were informed that they were at home. The surprise 
was complete, and tears of thankfulness welled up 
from grateful hearts. The bride presided at the table 
with the grace of a queen. An hour after the repast, 
the little company left them. Aided by the woman 
in the kitchen, they made the tour of the house ; then, 
kneeling side by side, poured forth their gratitude to 
God for all his benefits. 

During this year and a half Westerfield had been 
hard at work with his studies in Georgetown. One 
short session was before him. Such was his proficiency 
that a large share of his time was now devoted to the 
study of the law. He graduated, as might have been 
expected, with the first honors of the school at the 
end of his fourth year. Returning to his native place, 
he immediately entered the law office of Mr. Rowen, 
then an eminent practitioner at the bar. He had 


i8o 


THE CONTRAST. 


made such good use of his spare time at college that 
in twelve months he was admitted to the practice of 
law. Thomson told him of a situation in Georgia, 
where he could go at once into a paying practice. He 
wrote to the Clerk of the Court, and learned that an 
attorney was greatly needed there. Upon consultation 
with his father, it was decided that he should make 
Georgia his future home. The time was fixed for his 
departure, and Mr. and Mrs. Thomson were invited to 
spend a few days with the Gipsons before this final 
separation of the remaining members. During their 
stay the regular meeting of the church occurred. On 
Saturday the old pastor of the church remarked, at 
the close of a sermon which Thomson had preached 
on the evidences of regeneration, “We know of no 
one wishing to unite with us at present, but we are 
sometimes agreeably surprised on this point ; we there- 
fore give the opportunity to any who may have such 
a desire to come forward and tell us what the Lord 
has done for them whereof they are glad.” 

While a song was sung, Mr. Gipson stole a furtive 
glance at his son, in whose face he saw nothing indi- 
cating particular interest. “Oh,” thought he, “if 
my poor boy was only a Christian, I could give him 
up to go among strangers with fortitude and resigna- 
tion ! But I must wait. Lord, give me patience to wait 
thine own appointed time, and faith to cling to the 
precious promises of thy word!” 

He had scarcely finished this mental prayer, when 
he saw Westerfield rise in his place. “ Is he going to 


THE CONTRAST. 


I8l 


leave the house?” thought the now almost agonized 
parent “He is in the aisle. Why, no; he faces the 
pulpit!” See the father, as he puts all his anxiety 
and hopes and fears into the look that follows his boy! 
Where is the mother? Ah, her faith don’t stop to 
reason ! As by intuition, she understands it all. A 
thousand prayers are answered now. Westerfield 
walks slowly to the pastor and extends his hand; his 
mother is at his side. The song dies away, and father 
and sisters sob aloud. The old pastor said: 

“Westerfield, you are calm; please tell us, in your 
own way, when you first saw your lost and ruined 
condition as a sinner, and how you gor along from 
that time until you hoped God, for Christ’s sake, par- 
doned your sins.” 

The young man cast his eyes over the congregation, 
and then spoke so as to be heard all over the house: 

‘ ‘ Brethren, I can hardly remember when I was 
wholly indifferent to the subject of religion. Among 
my recollections of my childhood are thoughts of 
eternal things. When no earthly friend dreamed that 
I was in any trouble, the saddest feelings that ever 
wrung my heart were robbing me of peace. I was 
earl)^ taught that all men are sinners, justly con- 
demned to endless misery ; that I must die and go to 
judgment, and could not escape the all-seeing eye or 
hide my sins from him. It is useless to tell you all 
my childish thoughts regarding these awful subjects. 
I looked abroad upon the earth, and it was beautiful ; 
I .saw and conversed with friends, and they w^re dear 


THE CONTRAST. 


182 

to me ; but when I remembered that this beautiful 
world was to be burned up, and these friends must 
pale and die, it filled my young mind with inconsolable 
grief. In these paroxysms of sorrow I used to try to 
pray ; this often lifted the burden from my heart for 
the time being. I now see this grev/ out of a pharisaical 
spirit. With me prayer was duty, and duty performed 
made the performer good, as I thought, and the good 
were safe. But I would soon learn to my sorrow that 
my ‘goodness was as a morning cloud,’ that soon 
passed av/ay. These thoughts, feelings and duties, 
repeated many, many times, make up the experience 
of my childhood. I was ignorant of the plan of sal- 
vation ; no daysman stood betv/een me and my Creator. 
I had no other idea then than that I must stand in my 
own righteousness ; to do some good thing by which I 
might be justified before God, was the highest ambi- 
tion of my foolish heart. These feelings would wear 
off, and I would be as careless as though I had no soul 
to save. Thus I alternated between the saddest fore- 
bodings of the future and the merriment of a young 
and joyous life. Sometimes I would have freely given 
worlds, if they had been at my disposal, to feel a well- 
grounded assurance that I would be permitted to join 
the saints in brighter worlds on high, where death can 
not enter and partings are no more. At other times I 
felt like it all might be delusion ; there might be no 
God who hated sin and ruled the universe in iron jus- 
tice; that when I died I would, perhaps, see and feet 
and know no more. Such thoughts v/ere not welcome 


THE CONTRAST. 


83 


to me. The idea of being wafted along on life’s 
silvery stream for a little while, like a bubble, and then 
ceasing to be forever, was worse than torture. But, 
I would think, how can I lie down in eternal burnings, 
or how escape that burning? Alas, I knew not how! 
Then I would think it would be better for me to ban- 
ish these thoughts and enjoy life while I could ; the 
dreaded evil would come soon enough, without meet- 
ing it. But, brethren, while these struggles were 
going on in my youthful heart and consuming all its 
joys, there were intervals of time when I was free from 
every corroding care on the subject, and sin was just 
as sweet to me as though I had never dreaded its awful 
consequences. Thus passed my childhood and youth, 
until one day, during the meeting here three years 
ago, I listened to Brother Thomas preach from the 
text ‘ Is it nothing to you ? — all ye that pass by, behold 
and see if there is any sorrow like unto my sorrow 
wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of 
his fierce anger!’ It seemed to me the text was in- 
tended for me ; ‘ the sorrows of death got hold of me, ’ 
and that the Lord was angry with me, I had no doubt. 
If I had ever told any one of the fears that haunted 
me, or the sorrows which wrung my heart, I would 
have been sure they had told the minister all about it ; 
but I knew I had never spoken my trouble to any. 
I was amazed to find that my most secret thoughts 
were known ; every thought in the sermon found a 
response in my heart. From that hour I could no 
more shake off the 'fearful looking for of judgment. 


THE CONTRAST. 


184 

and the fiery indignation that devours the adversary. ' 
My prayers were of no avail. Tears would not wash 
away my guilt. My sins lay heavy on my soul, and 
there was none to help. Repentance seemed to have 
come too late. I saw others happy around me ; my 
playmates and schoolfellows sought and obtained par- 
don. I was glad to see this, for I thought if I must 
go to ruin, let me go there alone. Y et, as I saw them 
walk abroad in the freedom wherewith Christ had 
made them free, I felt like there was no mercy for me. 
These receive their pardon, thought I, because they 
have not sinned like I have. I have sinned against 
light; God will not pardon so much. Despair seemed 
to be settling down upon my mind. Somewhere or 
somehow this idea had possession of my mind, ‘ Offer 
yourself a sacrifice to God.’ I thought I would do 
so, and for this purpose wandered off into the. woods; 
but, when I would make the offering, Satan suggested 
a new idea, which frightened me from my purpose. 
It was this : ‘ If you give yourself to God, he will ac- 
cept the offering and send you to hell to atone for your 
sins.’ Alas, I knew not that this was a device of 
Satan! For several days I was verging on despair; 
yet I must say there was some undefined hope. The 
language of my heart, though it never found expres- 
sion, was, 

‘“Oh save a trembling sinner, Lord, 

Whose hopes, still hovering ’round thy word, 

Would light on some sweet promise there. 

Some sure support against despair ! ’ 

‘‘ While I trembled in the poise between hope and de- 


THE CONTRAST. 


185 


spair, a sermon was preached on faith in Christ. 
The minister said: ‘ Faith is simply trusting Christ. 
When you were a child you trusted parents for food 
and raiment; you knew nothing more to do. The 
idea of earning what you needed never entered your 
mind ; it was simply trust ma and pa, and you were 
confident every want would be supplied. Go now, 
and trust Jesus in the same childlike manner for the 
bread of life, for the robe of righeousness, for pardon — 
for all you need. ’ 

' ‘ Light came stealing into my darkened understand- 
ing, and, as soon as I could leave the house, I went 
to the woods again. A still, small voice whispered: 

^ Surrender all to Christ, and trust him alone for salva- 
tion!’ But Satan was there with the old story which 
had frightened me before : ‘ God will send you to hell 
if you put yourself in his power. ’ But, brethren, I 
felt it was only perish if I made the surrender, and 
if I stayed away from Christ I knew I must forever 
die, and my heart in very despair said, ‘ If I perish, 

I perish. ’ Kneeling there in bitter anguish, I tried 
to pray, and in that prayer I felt — 

“ ‘Here, Lord, I give myself away, 

’Tis all that I can do.’ 

^'As I rose from my knees a calm, quiet peace, 
sweeter than anything I had ever known, seemed to 
permeate my whole being. I had often wept in bit- 
terness over my condition as a condemned sinner, but 
now there was happiness in tears. The face of na- 
ture seemed to be changed. Everything around me 


THE CONTRAST. 


1 86 

was more beautiful than I had ever seen it. The 
loveliest landscapes my eyes had ever seen stretched 
out before my ravished eyes ; the clearest skies that 
ever covered my defenseless head hung over me ; the 
brightest sun that ever shed his benignant rays upon 
this sin-cursed earth beamed in the upper skies. I 
could see now that God was not angry with me, but, 
brethren, I was too ignorant to know that this was re- 
ligion. I then thought God was going to pardon me 
at some future time ; I was happy in the thought. 
But that I was pardoned never entered my mind. I 
loved Jesus because I thought he had satisfied the de- 
mands of justice in my behalf. I loved God because, 
as I thought, he was going soon to seal my pardon 
and proclaim me His child. I loved Christians because 
they bore the image of Jesus. And, brethren, I 
loved sinners because Jesus loved me — me a sinner. 
But still I did not know that ‘ my beloved was mine 
and I was his. ’ 

“I left home in this singular state of mind, and 
some time afterward I was talking with Mr. Thomson 
one night in our room, and our conversation turned 
on the subject of experimental religion, when I told 
him all my heart. We often did this on other sub- 
jects ; we had no secrets to keep from each other. I 
noticed while I talked he laughed and cried alternate- 
ly, and I could not guess why he did so. But when 
I finished he took me by the hand and observed: 
‘My brother, you have all the religion you’ll ever 
have — the very thing you are expecting has already 


THE CONTRAST. 


187 


taken place.’ We talked of the Bible evidences of 
regeneration, and, as he presented them one after an- 
other, my heart leaped with new joy. 

‘ ‘ I have only to add I have all along had a prefer- 
ence to unite with the church at home, where my 
parents and sisters might hear what I had to tell. It 
may have been foolish in me, but I feel to-day, if I 
am a Christian at all, I owe it all to my parents, so far 
as instrumentality is concerned, and all to Christ, so 
far as merit goes. 

“I am going to leave Kentucky, and I do not want 
to go among strangers in disguise. If I am a Christ- 
ian, I want it known wherever I go. I am not ashamed 
of Jesus; He is to me ‘ the Chief among ten thousand.’ ” 

He ceased speaking, and the pastor took the vote 
of the church on his reception, and all hands went 
up. Then, crowding up the aisles, the members gave 
him the hand of Christian fellowship. The Gipsons 
each held him in their arms as if afraid he would van- 
ish. Their hearts were unspeakably happy. The 
last member of the family was now a Christian and a 
member of the church (at least in the near prospect), 
the youngest daughter having joined the fall before. 

Westerfield was baptized the next day, and at night 
sat at the Lord’s table in commemoration of the Sav- 
ior’s death. 

Not long after this joyous occasion we find him in 
Georgia, offering his services to the people there as a 
lawyer. In this, as in every thing else, his industry 
was untiring. He studied late and early to acquaint 


THE CONTRAST. 


1 88 

himself with the lore of the law. He was conscien- 
tious in all he did. When consulted in any cause, he 
never encouraged a man to go into court when he be- 
lieved the law, the evidence or the justice of the case, 
was against him. If it were insisted that he should 
bring suit in such cases, he would answer : “I would 
rather not. You will lose the case and I reputation, 
instead of making it. I have none of this to spare, 
and I suppose you do not want to spend money 
on lawyers and clerks for nothing. My advice to you 
is to make the best terms you can with your adver- 
sary.” The people soon found that his judgment 
was good and his heart in the right place. He became 
popular and business increased rapidly in his favor. 

The little church at Macon, of which he was now 
a beloved member, felt encouraged when he first put 
his membership with them ; nor were they disappoint- 
ed in their hopes of his usefulness. He gave his 
money freely, filled his seat promptly, lead in prayer- 
meetings, labored in the Sabbath school, and talked 
(the brethren used to call it preaching) to the congre- 
gation in the absence of the pastor. He had the sat- 
isfaction of seeing the church grow strong in numbers, 
wealth and influence during his stay among them. 
And, what was yet more encouraging to him, he saw 
his whole Bible class brought to Christ in the two 
years of his stay among them. He often wrote to the 
loved ones in Kentucky and kept them posted in 
all his successes, both as a business man and as a 
church member. When he had been in the South a 


THE CONTRAST. 1 89 

little over two years, his father received the following 
letter : 

“Macon, Georgia, October io, 1807. 

“ Dear Father : — It has been so short a time since 
I wrote you that I have nothing to write of myself 
(except that I am well) which you have not already 
heard. I write this to say to you that William T. 
Hostell is here in jail, charged with the murder of 
Markander, the merchant, of whom I wrote you a few 
weeks ago. From what I hear on the street, it is 
more than probable he is in some way connected with 
a gang of counterfeiters, and committed the murder in 
their service. There is but little doubt entertained 
here of his guilt. At the last term of the court a 
citizen of this county was sent to the penitentiary for 
counterfeiting, and Markander was the principal wit- 
ness against him. Our sheriff has satisfied himself that 
Hosteirs accomplice stayed at Villano’s (the man who 
was sent to the state prison) the night before the mur- 
der, and left the neighborhood in company after the 
deed was committed. Hostell sent for a lawyer, and I 
have been employed to defend him. If I had heard as 
much of the evidence before as I have since I engaged 
for the defense, I could not have been induced to go 
into the case. But I have given him my word as a 
lawyer, and now I must do what I can without vio- 
lating my conscience. Besides, I thought as we were 
not friends when we were boys, if I refused to defend 
him it would be attributed to an old dislike; and I 
can truly say, while I have never admired William’s 


190 


THE CONTRAST. 


ways, I have nothing against him personally. He 
makes no allusion to the past in any conversation I 
have had with him, but talks of the business in hand 
as though we were total strangers. He appeared a 
little disconcerted, when I was first taken into his cell 
and introduced as Mr. Gipson, the attorney; but it 
was only momentary. He soon rallied, and talked 
with me as he would have done with one he had never 
seen before. I suppose he will be tried at the spring 
term. As he has said nothing about his family or any 
one else in Leightonville, I prefer you would say noth- 
ing of his case outside of the family. I am, as ever, 
your affectionate Westerfield.” 

The Gipsons were by no means astonished to hear 
such tidings of Hostell ; it was what they always ex- 
pected. Though they knew nothing of his connection 
with the gang of outlaws, yet they knew he had been 
raised to disregard the rights and feelings of others, 
whenever they crossed his own inclinations. They 
also knew the wicked bent of his mind, the cruelty 
of his temper, the violence of his hate, and were, there- 
fore, prepared to hear, without astonishment, any thing 
evil of him ; still, they could not hear of his condition 
and prospects without a pang. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


The spring term of the court found Hostell unwill- 
ing to go into trial. He therefore asked a continuance 
on account of an absent witness. The court required 
him to give the name of the. witness on oath, and to 
state what he expected to prove by him. He gave 
the name of F. Swerigan, and expected to prove an 
alibi. The prosecuting attorney asked to be informed 
where Mr. Swerigan lived, and where Mr. Hostell 
expected to prove himself to have been on the night 
of the — of last September — that he wished to avoid a 
surprise. The court ruled the question legitimate, 
and William answered, that Swerigan lived on the 
road to Canton, about forty miles from Macon. 
left this county,” said he, ^The morning of the — , 
and reached his house that night; it was at his house 
that I stayed.” The attorney informed the court that 
he was prepared to prove that the prisoner was not 
twenty miles front Macon at daylight the morning after 
the murder; that he took breakfast twenty-one miles 

(191) 


192 


THE CONTRAST. 


from Markander’s, and came from that direction to the 
house where he stopped for that purpose. He was 
allowed to introduce his proof; upon the hearing of 
which, the court refused a continuance. 

Hostell then applied for a change of venue. Again 
the commonwealth’s attorney opposed his motion. 
“Your Honor,” said he, “is aware that the law does 
not contemplate a change of venue to enable the ac- 
cused to evade justice, but to obtain it. Where this 
can be had in the place where the crime was committed, 
there is no reason for any change. It can not be pre- 
tended that there is any prejudice existing here to 
preclude justice. The prisoner is not known in the 
county, and there can not, therefore, be any prejudice 
against him. Besides, if your Honor please, it will 
appear in the course of this trial that the prisoner is 
in some way connected with a band of counterfeiters 
and outlaws, and to grant a change of venue would 
be to give him an opportunity to stand a trial in the 
midst of his associates in crime. Here we have every 
reason to believe a jury can be made up without 
having any one in it who may be bound by oaths and 
common crimes to find a verdict of ‘not guilty,’ 
whether the proof justifies it or not. But, when you 
go to another county with this case, you may have 
moved it into a nest of the characters I have supposed. 

I hope, therefore, the court will be slow to grant a 
change until it is shown that there is too much preju- 
dice in this county against the prisoner to do him 
justice. ” The court overruled the motion to change^ 


THE CONTRAST. 


193 


and proceeded to impanel the jury. Only about half 
the requisite number was accepted from the . regular 
panel. The court then instructed the sheriff to sum- 
mon others until a jury was obtained, and to be careful 
not to pick up any stranger or suspicious character. 
The charge was unnecessary, except so far as it showed 
the honesty of the judge himself, for our sheriff was 
not a man to be bribed to swerve from law and right. 
The jury was finally made up of honest men, and the 
trial proceeded. A number of witnesses were intro- 
duced to prove that John Markander came to his death 
by violence. This point was fully sustained. The 
commonwealth then introduced Mr. Draffer, who 
stated that he sold Mr. Hostell a horse a few days 
before the homicide, and that he was led to suspect 
him from the tracks shown on the day of burial (the 
horses supposed to have been ridden by the guilty 
parties had been tied about fifty yards from the store, 
in a place not generally used for the purpose of hitch- 
ing) ; that he recognized a mark made by the shoe on 
the horse’s right hind foot, which he had caused to be 
put there to enable him to identify a horse from his 
drove, in case one should stray or be stolen. He had in- 
quired along the road he traveled on his homeward trip 
for two men— one of them riding an iron-gray horse and 
answering the description of William Hostell — that he 
had struck their trail about twenty miles from Mark- 
ander’s store, where he had heard that two men passed 

a little after daylight, on the morning of ; that 

their horses seemed tired, and one of the men was 

13 


194 


THE CONTRAST. 


riding an iron-gray — ‘‘the description of horse I sold 
Hostell. A little further on I learned they got break- 
fast at a farmhouse, and I got this bill (handing it to 
-the judge) of the farmer, which he told me he had 
received from one of the men in payment of their bill, 
he giving him the change.” He had heard of them 
all along until he got to Tennessee ; there he lost one 
of them. “But,” said he, “I found no difficulty in 
trailing the man on the iron-gray horse, until I reached 
Green River in Kentucky, when I could no more hear 
of him. About ten days afterward, the horse was 
found in my neighborhood ; I had bought him of one 
of my neighbors. I took him up and posted him, after 
which I placed him in the stray-stable in town. Not 
many days after, Mr. Hostell came to my house in 
search of him. I went with him and swore that I had 
sold him that horse in Georgia, and he was delivered 
up to him. The sheriff then arrested him.” And fur- 
ther the deponent saith not. 

The farmer at whose house Hostell and his fellow 
traveler took breakfast was then introduced, who 
stated that two men called for breakfast at his house 

on the morning of the ; that the prisoner was 

one of them ; that he rode an iron-gray horse ; both 
horses appeared jaded, as if they had been hard 
pushed. He lived about twenty-one or twenty-two 
miles from Markander’s store. Upon being shown the 
bill Drafifer had handed the judge, he compared it with 
a description he had of it in his memorandum book, 
and then stated it was the same bill he received of 


THE CONTRAST. 


195 


the prisoner. And further the deponent saith not. 

Young Markander was then sworn, who stated that 
the memorandum in his brother’s book was written by 
his brother — it was in his handwriting ; and then ex- 
hibited the memorandum, which bore date the day 
before his death, and described the bill ; and also stated 
that he received it of Mr. Agen. 

Agen was then sworn, and stated that he paid Mark- 
ander a twenty-dollar bill on the day before he was 
killed; then taking the bill and examining it, said: 
"‘This is the bill I paid John Markander the day before 
his death.” And then he showed the jury the private 
mark he had put upon it. 

The sheriff of the county was next sworn, and 
stated how he had inquired at Villano’s concerning 
the stranger who staid there the night before the mur- 
der, and the direction he started next morning; he 
started off in the direction of the inn. He next went 
to the country inn where Hostell had been putting up, 
and learned that no such man had passed there that 
morning. Hostell left there the same morning, tak- 
ing the opposite direction, so that he and the stranger 
from Villano’s must have met about the fork of the 
road. He had then taken the road they must have 
traveled if they left the neighborhood that day, and 
inquired for miles along that road without hearing of 
their passing that way ; some men were at work on 
the road all day, and did not see them. He then 
went back to the fork of the road, and, passing down 
a hollow into a dense thicket, he found where two 


196 


THE CONTRAST. 


horses had been tied, apparently a long time, and also 
where two men had been lying on the ground. I also 
found this broken bottle at the root of a tree ; it had 
the appearance of having been thrown against the 
tree. And here he closed his testimony. 

The innkeeper next testified that Hostell had been 
at his house over a week ; he knew of no business he 
had in the neighborhood. He had inquired the way 
to Markander’s store one day, and left the inn, he 
supposed, to go there. ‘ ‘ He left my house the morn- 
ing Markander was killed at night ; he said he was 
going to Kentucky; he left soon after breakfast. I 
sold him a pint flask filled with whisky that morning.”’ 
On being shown the broken bottle, he said: ‘'These 
are the fragments of the bottle I sold the prisoner ; I 
know it by this ring around the lower part of the 
neck. I never saw one like it before. I know no 
more about the case.” 

Quite a number of witnesses were introduced to 
corroborate the above statements. 

The prisoner then had several strangers sworn, who 
gave him an excellent character ; some of them even 
stated that they had seen him in Tennessee the day 
after the murder of Markander. But they placed 
him at too great a distance from the country inn in too 
short a period of time to make an impression on the 
mind of the jury in his favor. These witnesses rather 
worsted his case. The prosecution now made a brief 
statement of the case to the jury, and yielded the 
right of speech until the defense could be heard. 


THE CONTRAST. 1 97 

Westerfield was evidently embarrassed with the 
case. He could see that the evidence, though en- 
tirely circumstantial, was very conclusive, and against 
his client. But he made the best argument he could 
without violating his conscience. He told the jury 
that where the evidence was all circumstantial it be- 
hooved them, in any case, to be exceedingly careful ; 
but when a fellow-being’s life hung in the balance, 
and such testimony was to decide whether he should 
live or die, “no juryman,” said he, “can be too care- 
ful in bringing the testimony to the severest criticism. 
I take it that the gentlemen who have deposed before 
you have sworn the truth. I shall not feel called upon 
to arraign any one as a false witness. But I wish to 
call your attention to the fact that most of the facts 
" deposed by them may be accounted for without sup- 
posing the prisoner at the bar guilty of the crime 
charged against him. The court will tell you that 
where a reasonable doubt exists the accused is to have 
the benefit of such doubt. Is there not ground for 
doubt in this case ? Let us see if the testimony does 
not fail to establish the guilt of the accused beyond a 
reasonable doubt. Mr. Draffer has sold the prisoner 
a liorse with a certain mark on the shoe, which he 
recognized in the tracks near Markander’s store. But, 
gentlemen, he also states that he had that mark on 
the same foot of every horse in his drove, and he sold 
horses all over this county. It is therefore the easiest 
thing in the world to see that this part of the testi- 
mony only proves that the guilt lies between a hun- 


198 


THE CONTRAST. 


dred men, for Draffer sold a hundred horses that 
would make the same mark in the soft earth that 
Hostell’s made. It looks as if there were ninety-nine 
chances for doubt here. 

‘ ‘ Suppose you apply the test of strict criticism to 
the sheriff’s testimony regarding the trysting-place in 
the woods. There is no evidence before this jury that 
Hostell was there, unless you receive the fact that a 
bottle was found there which the innkeeper sold to 
Hostell the morning he left his house. But there are 
other ways to account for its being there without sup- 
posing Hostell carried it there. It is reasonable to 
suppose Hostell and the traveler from Villano’s met 
at the forks of the road. The testimony before us will 
warrant this conclusion. Now, upon the supposition 
that these men were acquainted with each other, we 
can easily account for Hostell’s bottle being found off 
the road. But put the worst face upon it, and grant 
that it was Hostell and this stranger who lay in this 
thicket for several hours and drank the contents of the 
bottle, and can we infer from this circumstance be- 
yond a reasonable doubt that they killed Markander ? 
If there had been no crime committed in the commu- 
nity at that time, and all the facts with reference to 
this bottle and this stranger at Villano’s had come be- 
fore you for solution, would you not explain the whole 
thing about thu§: Hostell and the traveler were old 
acquaintances, and meeting here, away from home 
and unexpectedly, turned aside from the road to have 
a few hours together, where they would not be dis- 


THE CONTRAST. 


199 


turbed by strangers who might be passing the road. 
If such would be your solution of this part of the tes- 
timony if no crime had been committed, why may you 
not so explain it now that a human being’s life de- 
pends on the solution you give it? Now I proceed a 
step farther with the evidence. A money-bill is ex- 
hibited here as paid to Markander the day before he 
was killed, and as having been paid to the farmer by 
Hostell for breakfast the morning after the murder. 
It is not my intention to dispute any of these facts. 
It could only weaken my cause. But I would aid the 
jury in accounting for these facts upon the supposition 
that the prisoner is innocent. The innkeeper has told 
you that Hostell inquired the way to Markander’s 
store one day while staying at his house, and that he 
left, as the witness supposed, to go there. May it not 
have been on the very day that Agen paid in the bill ? 
And may he not have gotten that bill in some busi- 
ness way that day? Ah! gentlemen, the prisoner 
lives in Kentucky, and in that part of Kentucky con- 
tiguous to Virginia; and this is a Virginia note; and 
how reasonable it is to suppose Markander would put 
that note of all others in the hands of a man who 
would be in a few days where it would pass as current 
as any other bill. 

There is but one more point in the evidence that 
I need to criticise. The first witness tells us that he 
struck the trail of Hostell and some one traveling in 
his company about twenty miles from Markander’s. 
He is corroborated in this by several gentlemen. I 


200 


THE CONTRAST. 


am not here to dispute the testimony, but to harmo- 
nize it with the innocence of the accused. Let us 
suppose that the stranger, whom the prisoner is 
thought to have met at the fork of the road, was an 
old acquaintance, and he expected to see some one on 
business living near the fork of the road, and, meeting 
Hostell there on his way to Kentucky, he proposes to 
bear him company two or three hundred miles if he 
can wait a few hours until he transacts this business in 
the neighborhood. If any of you have ever traveled 
a few hundred miles alone, you know how certainly a 
man would wait a few hours, or a whole day for that 
matter, to secure company on such a journey. This 
acquaintance assures him he will only be detained a 
few hours, and he concludes to hitch his horse and lay 
himself on the green grass until his friend returns. 
That friend is unavoidably detained, and it is late 
when he returns. They determine to travel part of 
the night to make up lost time ; but in doing this they 
are seen traveling at daylight, and their horses appear 
jaded. With these methods of interpreting the testi- 
mony before you, it remains for you to say whether 
there is a doubt of the prisoner’s guilt or not; and if 
a reasonable doubt remains in your minds, you will 
find a verdict of ^ not guilty 

‘ ‘ I will not close this argument without bearing my 
humble testimony against a legalized method of mak- 
ing criminals of every grade. I refer to the traffic in 
intoxicating drinks. It has been shown here by some 
of the witnesses for the commonwealth that whisky 


THE CONTRAST. 


201 


was sold and used by somebody, and it is sought to be 
shown that the man who bought and used it killed 
Markander. Now, suppose the worst in the case; 
that is, that Hostell used the whisky, and that he killed 
Markander. I ask you, gentlemen of the jury, if you 
intend to license men to make murderers, and then 
hang the unfortunate beings who are crazed by the 
infuriating draught? There is every thing mean and 
vile in the e.stablishment of shops for the manufacture 
of murderers, and then establishing courts and appoint- 
ing officers to hang them after they are made. The 
commonwealth is holding out every inducement to 
her citizens to become criminals that interested bar- 
tenders can invent, and then she displays her appre- 
ciation of their handiwork by the erection of jails, 
penitentiaries and gallows. She plays the hypocrite 
in thus employing a part of her citizens to induce men 
to use the maddening potion, when she intends to 
punish them for their acts while under its baleful influ- 
ence. She plays the cruel tyrant in punishing men 
for doing what she has so studiously qualified them 
for doing. Gentlemen, you may give a verdict against 
the life of this man, but when you have done so, I 
defy you to go home with easy consciences, while you 
reflect on the fact that this man would never have 
been a murderer (if, indeed, he is one) but for intox- 
icating drinks ! When was there a murder committed 
in this commonwealth by a man not under its per- 
nicious power? No state should expect a rigid 
enforcement of her laws, when they are so self- 


202 


THE CONTRAST. 


Stultifying, contradictory, hypocritical and tyrannical. 

‘ ‘ Gentlemen, here is a young man in the beginning 
of life, away from home and friends, accused of the 
highest crime known to the law. His life is as sweet 
to him as ours to us ; he is as dear to an old mother, 
now bowed with age and infirmities, as your sons are 
to you. That aged mother stretches her attenuated 
hands across the chasm which separates her and her 
only boy to-day, and implores you by a mother’s, by 
a father’s, pride, to give her back the hope of her de- 
clining years. Can you stop your ears to her en- 
treaties, and by sending her child to the gallows bring 
her ‘gray hairs in sorrow to the grave?’ 

“ I have done. As you hope for mercy in the last 
day, so I conjure you, by that hope, to show mercy 
now.” 

The prosecuting attorney then spoke as follows: — 

“Gentlemen of the jury: It is no pleasant task to 
me to prosecute a fellow being; as I am sure it is not 
pleasant to you to sit in judgment on such a case as 
this. Yet, if no one was willing to perform the duties 
we now discharge, no one would be safe, even in his 
own house, for a single day. Lawless marauders 
would hunt down the successful business man, as you 
would a wild beast, and fatten on his earnings, while 
his wife and children begged their bread. I wish to 
disabuse your minds with regard to the part you are to 
act in this tragical drama. You are not here to pro- 
nounce sentence of death upon the prisoner. That 
duty may devolve on another; but you are clear in 


) 


THE CONTRAST. 205 

that matter, have nothing to do with it, and can not 
be held responsible for it. Neither are you here to 
hang this man. You can never have that unpleasant 
task to perform. Yours is a specific duty — a duty 
that neither sentences the prisoner to death nor turns 
him loose upon society. You are here to say whether 
he killed John Markander or not. When you have 
weighed the testimony carefully and honestly, and 
said whether the prisoner is guilty or not, your duty 
and responsibility in the case cease. Dismiss from 
your minds every idea of a gallows, a hangman, a 
coffin and a felon’s grave. You have nothing to do 
with them ; you are not to be blamed or applauded 
for any of these ; your blame or praise is to be derived 
from fidelity to the law and the evidence. I will now 
undertake to show you the fallacy of the argument 
made for the defense. Mr. Gipson has told you the 
mark in the horse-tracks can prove no more than that 
one of a hundred men rode to Markander’s store in 
the night and hitched in an out-of-the-way place. I 
grant the position. But this is certainly a step in ad- 
vance. Before the discovery was made, we had all 
the world in which to search for the murderer ; but 
now we have the number circumscribed and narrowed 
down to the comparatively small number of one hun- 
dred. We do not propose now to have these hundred 
men draw lots, and hang the man who is so unlucky 
as to draw the black card ; neither do we propose to 
throw away the little advantage we have in this fact. 
When we have demonstrated that one man among a 


204 


THE CONTRAST 


certain hundred men has committed a notable crime, 
we are not to act so unwisely as to ignore such an ad- 
vantage and go again to the wide world to hunt up the 
guilty man — and all because this part of the evidence 
is insufficient of itself to convict any one of the hun- 
dred. Again, the defense thinks you may account 
for the lair in the woods without supposing the pris- 
oner was there. But, gentlemen, you are not to give 
loose rein to your fancy, in order to account for Hos- 
tell’s property being found on the ground where some 
parties have held tryst. If the bottle he bought at 
the inn is found there, you are forced, by every law 
of reason, to conclude that he was there and left the 
bottle when it was no longer of service to him. If it 
was carried there by another, the prisoner can prove 
it, and is bound to do so before he can ask you to be- 
lieve it. This he has not attempted to do. He knows 
too well that the attempt to prove such a thing would 
only expose his accomplice, for he is the only human 
being, except Hostell, who knows all the secrets of 
the trysting-place. Again, we are asked to believe, 
upon the testimony of a fruitful imagination only, that 
two old acquaintances met by accident that morning 
at the fork of the road, and turned aside a quarter of 
a mile into the woods to have a good time over their 
bottle, and talk of the times ‘when you and I were 
young, ’ where they would not be disturbed by persons 
passing along the road. It must have occurred to 
your minds, while you listened to this argument, that 
these men had singular ideas of a joyous reunion of 


THE CONTRAST. 


20 $ 


old acquaintances. A solitary place in the woods — a 
thicket almost as dense as a canebrake, away from all 
the haunts of men — is chosen for this purpose, in 
preference to the hotel one of them had just left, and 
in preference to a place in sight of the road, because, 
forsooth, one of the neighbors might be passing and 
make the discovery that two old acquaintances had 
met and were glad to see each other ! No, gentlemen, 
there was a turning aside for quite another purpose — 
a purpose requiring the shelter of somber shades and 

“ ‘ Deep, tangled wild woods.’ 

‘ ‘ But we have been treated to another solution of 
this strange fancy for the darkest part of the dark 
woods, with which these precious friends were afflicted. 
The unknown traveler has a little business in the 
neighborhood, which he can attend to in an hour or 
two, and be back ready to start home and bear Hostell 
company some hundreds of miles. Of course he, or 
any other man, would wait for the sake of company 
on such a journey. But, gentlemen, did it not occur 
to you that it would have had a better appearance if 
Hostell had returned to the inn and waited there, in- 
stead of seeking to hide himself from all human eyes i* 
But, unfortunately for this theory again, the proof is 
wanting. If this stranger had business in the neigh- 
borhood it would have been easy to prove it here. 
The man he had business with would have been a 
competent witness. Besides, we not only have no 
proof that Hostell was taking a quiet nap in the woods 
while his friend hurried through his business to secure 


2o6 


THE CONTRAST. 


his company on the homeward trip, but we have pos- 
itive proof to the contrary. Two horses were tied in 
the hiding place, and tied so long that every twig was 
cropped by them as far as their halters would allow 
them to reach, and the bark gnawed off the saplings 
around them. Did this business friend leave his horse 
in the care of Mr. Hostell, while he walked over the 
country bent on business? — or is it not as clear to your 
mind as the sun in the heavens, that these old acquaint- 
ances lay there together during the whole day and into 
the night, waiting for the darkness which they hoped 
would hide their crime from men? It is in proof be- 
fore you that Hostell and some other man were seen 
a little after daylight, the morning after the murder, 
twenty miles from Markander’s, and that their horses 
were very much jaded. The defense has made another 
draw upon his imagination, to account for this strange 
procedure. The business of this stranger was a little 
complicated, or there was something wrong at least, 
and he was detained longer than they had anticipated, 
and they, therefore, concluded to travel a part of the 
night to make up lost time. Now I ask, where did 
they stay the other part of the night? and what was 
their hurry, that a part of the night must be used to 
make up a few hours which had been lost? It is in 
proof that Mr. Hostell is a gentleman of leisure. He 
was at the inn more than a week, and no one knows 
to this day what business he had in the community — 
except as the testimony before you reveals the dark 
design of murder. The most favorable construction 


THE CONTRAST. 


207 


you can put upon this week’s stay at a country inn, is 
that he is a gentleman of leisure. This point proved 
as it is, we are not prepared to receive the explanation 
given of the night ride. We call for proof to explain 
this uncommon hurry. I would have the jury bear in 
mind another fact: neither the men nor horses had 
eaten any thing from the morning they left the inn and 
Villano’s respectively. Is it reasonable to suppose 
they would travel all night on hordes that had fasted 
all day, for no other purpose than to make up a little 
lost time ; and that, too, when one of them had just 
been spending his time so leisurely at the inn? The 
testimony shows, again, that a money bill was paid 
to Markander the day before his death ; that night he 
is cruelly murdered, and the next morning that very 
bill is paid out by the prisoner, who comes from the 
direction of Markander’s on a horse jaded as though 
he had been hard pressed. All this is proven by 
Agen, who paid the money to Markander, and the 
farmer to whom Hostell paid it, and Drafifer who got 
it of the farmer and delivered it to this court; as well 
as the records in the store, and by the several mem- 
oranda kept by the parties. If any thing was want- 
ing to establish the guilt of the prisoner before, 
that link in the chain of testimony is supplied by this 
history of this money bill. And how does the at- 
torney for the defense attempt to parry the force of 
this last and fatal blow? Why, indeed, the inn- 
keeper said Mr. Hostell inquired the way to Markan- 
der’s store one day, while he was at his house, and left. 


208 


THE CONTRAST. 


as he supposed, to go there ; and now you are asked 
to infer that this was on the day Agen paid the money, 
and that Hostell must have gotten it in some business 
way. But, gentlemen, it was in the power of the pris- 
oner to prove this, if it were true. Why did he not 
call on Agen to say whether or not he, Hostell, was 
there at the time he paid in that bill? Only because 
he knew that Agen would swear they were not there 
together. Why not call on the innkeeper to state that 
it was on that day that he inquired for and started to 
the store? Simply because that witness had already 
stated that Hostell left his house immediately after 
that very day, professedly to go to Kentucky. Why 
not make some effort to prove his presence at Mark- 
ander’s, after the bill was paid to that gentleman, and 
before the murder? Only because the effort would have 
robbed him of the benefit of an inference. Well, 
gentlemen, where there is evidence, you are not at 
liberty to infer any thing which contradicts it. The 
commonwealth has proven, beyond a doubt, that John 
Markander, a peaceable citizen of this county, was 

murdered in his own house on the night of the 

of last ; that, for a week or more previous to 

that day, the prisoner was lounging in the neighbor- 
hood without any apparent business ; . that he visited 
Mr. Markander’s store in the time ; that he left the inn 

on the morning of the of last ,and that he 

started in the direction of Macon. It has also been 
shown that, on the night before he left the inn, a 
stranger stayed at Mrs. Villano’sand started the next 


THE CONTRAST. 


209 


morning iiTthe direction of the inn, and that he never 
passed there. The witnesses also state that these two 
men must have met near the fork of the road, and 
yet the most diligent inquiry on all the roads leading 
from the fork discovered no trace of them. But, they 
tell us, they did find a place one-quarter of a mile 
from the fork, where two men lay concealed and where 
two horses stood tied for hours ; that a broken bottle 
was found there, which was shown to be the property 
of Hostell, thus proving that he was one of the men 
who lay concealed there. We next prove that two 
men inquired late at night at Markander’s boarding- 
house whether he was at the store or not, and that one 
of them rode a dark gray horse ; we prove that Draffer 
sold Hostell such a horse a few days before. The 
next morning Markander is found dead — murdered, 
5nd his money drawer robbed of its contents. That 
morning the prisoner and another man are seen twenty 
miles from Markander’s, and coming from that direc- 
tion on jaded horses ; and a mile or two further on 
they get breakfast, and this man paid for it with money 
which Agen paid only the day before to Markander. 
Can you doubt the guilt of William T. Hostell? I 
defy you to doubt it! Your sympathy has been ap- 
pealed to, and you are told of a loving mother who 
begs of you to give her back her boy. I would not 
check your sympathies — God gave you ‘ hearts to feel 
for others^ woes, ' — but I would direct your sympathies 
to proper objects. I see another mother in this case. 
‘If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.* 

14 


210 


THE CONTRAST. 


I see a messenger, pale and trembling with grief and 
excitement, approach her, and in broken sentences 
tell her that her boy — her own kind, loving, dutiful 
John — is cruelly murdered 1 I see the mother faint 
away; I hear her groan in agony a thousand fold more 
fearful than that which first told her she was a mother ! 
Oh, there is an object which calls for your sympathy! 
That mother asks not for vengeance, but she tells you : 

‘ I have another son ; do not turn the guilty loose to 
murder him!’ We do not propose to torment the 
mother of the prisoner; it is to be hoped she is ig- 
norant of his crimes, and will never know his fate. 
But, be that as it may, I ask you to do your duty, as 
you expect to give an account before the impartial 
Judge.” 

The judge instructed the jury to give the prisoner 
the benefit of all reasonable doubt, and to weigh the 
testimony with the utmost care. “Circumstantial 
evidence,” said he, “should be very sharply criticised. 
The chain of circumstances must be unbroken ; a sin- 
gle missing link invalidates the whole. Yet, when 
circumstances join together, link to link, until a fact 
is established, it is certainly the hardest testimony in 
the world to overthrow. Take the case, gentlemen, 
and may God direct your minds to a true verdict!” 

The jury retired, and in a few hours returned a ver- 
dict of ‘‘guilty.” The miserable man was then re- 
manded to prison for the night. The next morning 
he was brought out again, and the judge pronounced 
sentence of death upon him,' recommending him to 


THE CONTRAST. 


211 


the mercy of God, and telling him that he should not 
flatter himself with the hope of escape or executive 
clemency. The attorney for the commonwealth then 
said to the court, it was thought by the best citizens 
that a strong guard had better be placed in and around 
the jail. His Honor was pleased to order such a 
guard, which was formed at once. Hope died in 
William’s breast as he saw resolute men, well-armed 
and ever vigilant by day and night, pacing to and fro 
in front of the building. He now wrote to his father 
informing him, for the first time, of his whereabouts 
and of his trouble. 

The people of Leightonville could see there was 
trouble of some sort at the hotel. There was hurry- 
ing and whispering and purchasing of uncommon ar- 
ticles, and serious, anxious looks, foreboding ill. Yet 
none knew what was the cause, if we except the Gip- 
sons, who had heard all through Westerfield but had 
not spoken of it to any one. One of the servants 
from the hotel was sent to purchase an article which 
suggested the idea of travel. The salesman asked: 
“Who is going to take a trip ?” The negro grinned 
and answered: “The madam.” “ Why, where is she 
going? I did not know she ever went on journeys,” 
said the merchant’s clerk. The negro smiled again, 
and looked a good deal like he knew more than he 
ought to tell, as he answered : “She’s going to Geor- 
gia ; the old boss says William has been at some of 
his devilment” — and he left without giving further 
time for inquiry. Mrs. Hostell was gone about three 


212 


THE CONTRAST. 


weeks, and when she returned she took her bed and 
never left it again until she was taken to her long home 
in the village cemetery. She had been to Milledgeville 
and appealed in vain to the governor for the life of 
her son. That gentleman had wept with her and of- 
fered words of comfort, bidding her trust in God for 
the mercy which He only can bestow. Mrs. Hostell 
was unprepared to hear him say : * * I can not, I can 
not,” to every appeal she made for her child. She 
knew not what it was to be denied so calmly, so kind- 
ly and yet so firmly. Hitherto, when denied a wish, 
however roughly made, she had but to storm and 
rave, and she was allowed to have it her own way ; but 
here is a man who speaks kindly to her, who is evi- 
dently deeply moved by her distress, who can say 
‘*No” through blinding tears, and say it so firmly 
that it freezes the life-current in her veins. She has 
never bent her knees to her Creator — never asked a 
favor of Him — ^but here she bends on supple knee be- 
fore a man, and pleads for what he can not in honor 
give. With clasped hands and streaming eyes she 
pours out her mother’s heart, gush after gush, until 
nature’s fountain dries and words are turned to groans. 
She has risen, and stands in the open door ; a moment 
there, and then she turns to the inexorable governor, 
and with her thin hands raised to heaven and one wild 
look of pleading despair, exclaimed in piteous accents, 
“ Is there no hope?” The governor only shook his 
head, and the scene was ended. After seeing her son 
at Macon, she returned to her home and took her bed. 


THE CONTRAST. 


213 


as we have said before. She was so evidently in a 
rapid decline that a physician was called in, but soon 
informed the family that he could do nothing to re- 
lieve her. She was often frantic. She would often 
start up in her sleep and appeal to the governor to 
give her back her boy, or scream out that they were 
fixing to hang him — there they go with him — oh, my 
child, my only boy! 

A few weeks passed thus; and then, as if nature 
was exhausted, she fell into a stupor and lingered on, 
while Mrs. Baum was the only watcher at her bed- 
side, and the only one to weep over the calamities 
which came upon the household as a desolation. The 
day of May, 1800, was fixed for William to suf- 
fer the rigor of the law. This his mother learned 
while in his cell, and this day and date she never forgot 
in all the wild ravings of her delirium ; and on the 
same day, while he was struggling in the full strength 
of his young manhood with the King of Terrors, her 
life went out with a sigh, like the last sob of the 
sinking gale. 


i 


CHAPTER XVIL 


A year has passed since the events related in the 
last chapter transpired, and full two years since Mrs. 
Baum first resolved to explain to her children the re- 
lation their father and mother sustained to each other. 
She had performed the task long before the time we 
are now going to speak of. The children were now 
large enough to attend school in good weather. They 
had come home several times in no very good humor 
at having been taunted with the separation of their 
parents. The mother could only soothe their child- 
ish sorrows by telling them not to care for it. But, 
while this satisfied them for the time being, it never 
satisfied her; this sorrow was constantly festering in 
her bosom. She had often hoped that Baum would 
ask for an explanation of the past, or that he would 
volunteer to explain why he had left her as he did, 
and thus give her an opportunity of telling him how 
she had been ill-advised and urged on to do what her 
heart did not approve. But she had waited in vain. 
** If there is ever a better understanding between us,’" 
mused the unhappy woman, ‘ ‘ I see clearly enough I 

(214) 


THE CONTRAST, 


215 


have to make the advance.” She thought much on 
this subject. How was she to introduce it, or in what 
words could she clothe her ideas so as not to compro- 
mise herself in case he should choose to treat her ad- 
.^vances with cold indifference? 

While she was in this frame of mind Baum came to 
see the children. He brought them new suits, more 
handsome than before. They were overflowing with 
childish joy. 

‘‘Now, ” said he, “you must take good care of your 
clothes, and you may go home with me some of these 
days. We are going to have a big barbecue this sum- 
mer at my house, and you may come down if you 
will keep your clothes nice to wear till then. There 
will be a great crowd of people there, and you must 
look as nice as you can.” 

He then asked Mrs. Baum if they could go home 
with him about the first of J uly. She answered : ‘ ‘ Cer- 
tainly ; whenever you want them to go with you they 
can go.” 

It was early spring, and some dry goods were needed 
at the hotel. Mrs. Baum, therefore, asked Baum if 
he had his spring goods. On receiving an affirmative 
answer, she asked if he had “any calico that would 
be suitable for dresses for her?” He said “he thought 
so;” when she handed him some money and asked 
him to bring her a dress pattern when he came again. 
He looked at the money for a moment and then put 
it in his pocket. A few days afterward he rode past 
and handed a bundle to one of the children, telling 


2i6 


THE CONTRAST. 


him to give it to his mother. This was a disappoint- 
ment to her, for she had hoped to see him and have 
an opportunity of telling him how she longed to make 
amends for all the wrong she had done him. She 
opened the bundle and found the money returned in 
a note which asked her to accept the dress as a pres- 
ent, or, if she objected to that, to take it as some 
small pay for waiting on his children. She was in a 
flutter of excitement. “What could it mean? Was 
there really any affection for me that prompted the 
act? or did he only mean to pay for what I did for 
his children (and mine) as he would any other woman?” 

Thus she mused, and hoped the time had come 
very near when she could tell him all, and, at least, 
know the worst. 

“ Here, ” thought she, ‘‘is an opening for the ex- 
planation I have so long desired to make and receive, 
ril not let this opportunity pass unimproved.” She 
expected he would call as he went out; but an hour 
afterward she saw him going out with another gentle- 
man, and he had already passed when she saw him. 
Still she hoped it would not be long until she would 
have another chance to tell him. Time wore along 
very slowly, while she lived on “hope deferred.” 
About this time it was discovered that her sister, 
Mrs. Balldus — or, according to the decree of court — 
Miss Amelia Hostell — was carrying on an illicit liaison, 
Mrs. Baum thought the cup of her sorrow was full 
to the brim. What more could there be for her to 
suffer that she had not already felt? Could there be 


THE CONTRAST. 


217 


in store another drop of grief to be wrung out and 
mingled in her cup of gall? “Oh, if I could once 
more pillow this aching head on his bosom, and know 
that he was reconciled ! ” So she thought, and so she 
felt in this hour of her desolation. But there was yet 
another ingredient to be pressed into the cup of her 
bitter woes. A month after Baum had brought her 
the dress pattern (she had not seen him since), she 
was in one of the stores of the village making some 
purchases, and among them some prints. This, per- 
haps, led the merchant to notice the dress she had’ on, 
and, as he knew she dealt in no other store but his, 
he asked where she got it. She answered, with ap- 
parent indifference, that it came from Baum’s. After 
a moment’s pause, during which he reflected on the 
probable effect the information he was inclined to give 
would be likely to have on her, and concluding it 
would not be disagreeable, he said : “ Have you heard 
that Baum is to be married soon?” If a bombshell 
had bursted in the room, the effect upon her nerves 
would not have been more apparent. Her heart 
mounted into her throat ; the blood rushed to her head 
and tingled with a buzzing sound in her ears ; her eyes 
swept for an instant the face of her informant, then 
lost the power of vision. She rather fell than sat 
back in a chair ; her breathing was short and thick. 
The gentle breath of spring was blowing upon her 
through the open door, and the merchant, seeing his 
mistake, handed her a smelling-bottle and offered to 
apologize for saying any thing on a subject that seemed 


2I8 


THE CONTRAST. 


SO disagreeable to her. When she could trust herself 
to speak, she told him there was no apology required ; 
that she was obliged to him for the information ; she 
would have heard it, and it was as well then as at any 
other time. She went home without her goods, telling 
the merchant she would send the children for them. 
By the time she reached home her mind was made up 
as to what she would do. She would no longer wait 
for an opportunity to ask him to forgive whatever he 
had objected to in her. It may be that he purposely 
keeps out of my sight. May it not be that the barbe- 
cue he talked of to the children was but another name 
for their father’s wedding? Why else did he want 
them to look so nice on that occasion ? What else 
could he mean by offering to pay me for what I had 
done for his children?” These thoughts were con- 
suming her. She sat down and wrote : 

‘ ‘ Mr. Baum : — Oh, how I wish I might add to that 
name the words *my dear husband.!' But I must tell 
you my sad story without presuming to use a sentence 
which alone can heal my broken spirit. I have long de- 
sired to tell you all that was in my heart, but have not 
had courage to do so when I’ve seen you. I have just 
heard you were soon to be married to another. I can 
not tell you the feelings this information produced. 
I felt like die I must. The thought was intolerable. 
I have never ceased to feel that you were my hus- 
band. I have felt that you were lost to me — but still 
mine. And when I learned that you were on the eve 
of marrying, and that this consciousness was to be 


THE CONTRAST. 


219 


torn out of my heart, and my children, and yours^ per- 
haps, taught to call another by the sweet name of 
mother, I felt I should have nothing more to live for. 
Oh, it seems to me that death will be thrice welcome 
when I have no more hope of a reconciliation be- 
tween us! 

‘ ^ When you left me and the children among stran- 
gers, I knew nothing more to do than to get back 
here. I was too proud to live on the charity of 
strangers, but none know how deeply I have repented 
my rash and inconsiderate move. I have felt a thou- 
sand times that I had better have lived on charity, 
than to come back here and suffer what I have suffered. 
I was mad at being left as I was, and was easily per- 
suaded to bring a suit for a divorce. But I speak the 
truth when I tell you that I was sick at heart and mad 
with myself a hundred times for doing so before it was 
decided; and, could I have been left to myself, that 
hated suit would have been dismissed the first court 
after it was brought. I beg that you will forgive me 
all. I was not what I ought to have been to you when 
we were together, yet I always loved you. I love you 
yet, and shall love you while I live. I entreat you 
to pity me. Think of the many, many sorrows that 
I have suffered, of my desolate situation — no one to 
whom I can turn for advice, for comfort, for sympathy 
in my distress, and (if it be true that you are soon to 
marry another) no hope to brighten my future. Think 
of all this, and pity me. Let me know that you for- 
give me, and I will at least have one burden lifted off 


220 


THE CONTRAST. 


my aching heart; and, if I must resign the hope I've 
all along indulged, that one day we would understand 
each other and be reconciled, I will have one sorrow 
less to carry to the grave. I am living in awful sus- 
pense. Please let me know, as soon as possible, what 
is to be my fate. Even the worst, when known, is 
better than suspense. Would that I might sign my- 
self, your own Joan." 

This letter was sent the day it was written, by one 
of Baum’s neighbors who happened to be in town, 
and reached him that night. He had no idea what it 
contained, or even who was the writer, for it was dusk 
when the man who brought it called at the store and 
handed it to him with the bare remark, ‘ ‘ Here’s a 
letter," and rode away. He placed it in his pocket, 
and thought no more of it until he was alone after 
supper; then, drawing it from his pocket and seating 
himself near the candle, he glanced at the address on 
the back and, without thinking of the hand, opened 
it. Half the truth flashed upon him as soon as he 
looked at the first page, and before he had read a word 
of it. The chirography was hers, and the whole page 
was blistered with tear marks. He looked for the 
name, read the line preceding it, and leaped up from 
the table with an exclamation whose echo was ‘ ‘Joan! " 
then, seating himself, read and reread it. The strong, 
hard man was weak now ; that proud heart was soft- 
ened, aixd he wept like a child. Once more he felt 
like there was something to live for besides his chil- 
dren. He, too, had felt the desolation of a heart with 


THE CONTRAST. 


221 


none to love and watch over with affection’s care. But 
the hope of having his wife and children under his 
own roof, now filled every corner of his heart. During 
the small hours of the night, he might have been seen 
writing the following lines : 

'‘Joan (and I will add, ‘my own’) : — I was greatly 
surprised to receive your letter, about dark last night, 
but the surprise was most agreeable. Had you only 
known how often I have felt like I would have given 
all I was worth to know that you loved me, you would 
not have been so long in suspense, or too backward 
to ask me for an explanation of my past acts. You 
want to know the worst, and intimate that the worst 
you can know would be to know that I am going to 
marry. Well, I am going to marry very soon, and 
take my children home, and have them call my wife 
mother, too — provided you are willing to be the wife 
and mother, but not otherwise. I have had no such 
thought as you heard, though I am a thousand times 
obliged to the man who started the report, since it 
was the means of bringing me this letter. I will now 
say that I forgive the past and, in my turn, ask to be 
forgiven. I left you and our babes without explaining 
why or where I went. I had no intention of a final 
separation. But I went off to get into business of 
some kind, believing that you could live some way or 
other for a few weeks, and that you could do this 
better among strangers than where I was knowm, and 
that it would not be so humiliating to you to be among 
strangers in your deep poverty as it would have been 


222 


THE CONTRAST. 


among your acquaintances. You see, though I acted 
badly, I was not altogether unmindful of your feel- 
ings. I may have been mistaken as to your prefer- 
ences, but still I was sincere. I own I did wrong to 
leave you without a word of explanation, and I ask 
you to forgive the wrong. But still I had some ex- 
cuse, even for that, which satisfied my mind. It was 
this : I knew you would be unwilling for me to go off 
and leave you destitute ; and yet I knew I must go, 
in order to make a support. To have stayed with you 
and hired myself out as a farm hand, and a very poor 
one at that, looked to me like the next thing to starv- 
ation. I hoped to get into some paying business, and 
be able to satisfy the kind people who might supply 
your wants in my absence, and remove you to where 
I could support you. You see that your comfort in 
the end prompted me in all I did. I found a place 
and returned for you in about a month, but you were 
gone. I inquired and learned that you were at your 
father’s. I thought of coming on there for you, but 
I had so little means to spend I concluded it was 
altogether uncertain whether you would be willing to 
go with me again until I could show you that I was 
making money. I therefore returned to my place and 
filled my contract. Then I went to Leightonville, with 
money enough to have commenced a small business 
on, expecting to be able to satisfy you regarding my 
strange conduct. But, when I got there, I found a 
suit for divorce against me, and I felt that all was lost. 
You know the rest. I have been stubborn, or all 


THE CONTRAST. 


223 


might have been adjusted long ago, as I now see. 
Our past trouble may sweeten future joys; I hope it 
may be so. I will see you in an hour or two after you 
read this. Yours, as ever, Baum.” 

As soon as breakfast was over, the next morning, 
Baum mounted his horse and made himself the bearer 
of his own letter. Arrived in Leightonville, he handed 
the letter to a servant, as he passed Hostell’s, and 
rode on into the town. His wife saw him through 
the window as he passed, and was too anxious to run 
the risk of not seeing him to restrain herself longer. 
She made for the front door, intending to hail him and 
throw herself at his feet, and beg his pity and forgive- 
ness ; but she met the servant at the door who handed 
her the letter, saying it was “from Mr. Baum.” She 
seized it and retired to her room, where she devoured its 
contents and was once more happy. The sorrows of 
years were trooping away, like the billowy clouds after 
the storm ; healing waters were rippling before her, and 
a benignant heaven was bright above her. She told one 
of the servants to tell Mr. Baum to come into her 
room, if he came to the hotel that day; then she put 
on the dress he had given her, smoothed her hair and 
awaited his coming. She was not destined to wait 
long; he was as anxious for the meeting as she. An 
hour after she had finished reading the letter they 
were face to face — and reconciled ! A week after- 
ward, Baum drove into town in his spring wagon ; a 
magistrate went with him to the hotel, and there was 
a quiet marriage. The children were as happy as it 


224 


THE CONTRAST. 


was possible for them to be, when they were told that 
they were, mother and all, going to live at papa’s now 
all the time. What stirring plans for the future the 
little fellows laid out for themselves ! Mr. and Mrs. 
Baum rather listened, than conversed, on this little 
journey. They enjoyed the children’s happiness, and 
when some new and extravagant idea was evolved, 
would look at each other and smile, without attempt- 
ing to check the joys of youth. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


The people of Leightonville had long loved their 
old pastor. Mr. Thomas had been among them from 
his youth. He had commenced his ministry in their 
midst. Christians of the community looked upon 
him as ther spiritual father. It was he who directed 
them to Jesus when their sins laid heavy on their 
souls. Brother Thomas rejoiced with them when their 
mourning was turned into joy. He had received 
them into the fellowship of the saints, guided their 
feet in paths of holiness and taught their hands to 
‘^war a good warfare.” He had prayed with the sick, 
and wept with the bereft when death had entered their 
homes. He officiated at their weddings and their fu- 
nerals. They scarcely felt that any pleasure was com- 
plete in which he was not a sharer, and no sorrow was 
tolerable until he had spoken words of comfort. Twas 
his 

** Apt words had power to ’suage 
The tumults of a troubled mind.” 

It was no wonder they loved him! Now that his 
head was white and his voice trembled they loved him 
15 (225) 


226 


THE CONTRAST. 


none the less, but like children who see a parent grow- 
ing old strive to husband the little time and strength 
that still remains, so his brethren in Christ vied with 
each other in lightening the burdens and cares of the 
pastorate he had borne so long. But the more ten- 
derly they loved him, and the more watchfully they 
cared for him, the more apparent it was to their minds 
that the time was near at hand when they must hear 
his voice for the last time and “see his face no more.'’ 
He was their first and only pastor. No member of 
his flock had ever thought of any change until his 
advancing years admonished them that he could serve 
them but a few years more ; and when the thought 
first presented itself it was so unwelcome that they 
tried to shut it out from their minds. But as often 
as they put it from them, it would force itself back 
with more distinctness than before. The dear old 
man had several times alluded to the prospect with 
tears. Once he suggested to the brethren that if they 
could get a young preacher while he was yet alive and 
could aid him a little, it would be better for them and 
the cause than to wait until he was gone. They were, 
therefore, looking out for a suitable man for the place 
when Mr. Gipson received a letter from Westerfield 
which astonished while it delighted him. 

After the usual salutations and some general items, 
it ran thus : 

I have long thought of writing to you on a sub- 
ject hitherto not spoken of between us, but which I 
have studied with anxious care. Since I made a pro- 


THE CONTRAST. 


227 


fession of religion, I have desired above all things to 
be useful ; and, since my connection with the church, 
I have tried to do all in my power to promote the 
cause of Christ. I can truly say I have not been 
ashamed of the gospel of Christ, but have felt it was an 
honor to me to own my Savior on all occasions. I have 
never missed a meeting, whether for prayer, preach- 
ing or business, when I have been in town. I have 
taken part in the prayer-meetings and the Sabbath- 
school, and, when my pastor has been absent, I have 
prepared and delivered a lecture (the brethren called 
it preaching) on some religious subject. I have given 
my money, when I had any, for every otyect approved 
by my conscience. In a word, I have done all I could, 
under existing circumstances, to advance the cause of 
my Redeemer. I say this in no boastful spirit. I 
think I feel thankful that I have been able to do so 
much, and truly sorry that Fve done so little; but I 
speak of these things that, from such a standpoint, I 
may tell you I am not satisfied. I want to do more 
for Jesus and the salvation of sinners than I have 
done — something I have not done. There is with me 
a growing desire to be useful in the Lord’s vineyard. 
When I read of destitution, where souls are perishing 
for the bread of life, my heart has said : ^ Lord, here 
am I ; send me ! ’ and sometimes I am ready to up- 
braid myself for having engaged in the practice of 
law when there is so much to do in a better cause. 
True, I think I have done some good in my profession. 

I have seen that there is nothing in this calling incom- 


THE CONTRAST. 


228 

patible with a Christian life. I could honor God in it; 
I believe he has blessed and honored me in it. I have 
succeeded beyond my most sanguine hopes. I have 
the grateful thanks of several clients — among whom 
are a widow and her orphan children — for whom I 
have labored successfully. But none of these things 
satisfy me ; I can’t rid myself of the idea that it is 
my duty to preach the Gospel. I have talked with 
my pastor on the subject, and he tells me it is. Tell 
Brother Thomas of my feelings. I have confidence 
in my pastor, but you know Brother Thomas has 
always been to me more than any other man can ever 
be. Next to yourself, he has done more to form my 
mind than any living man. I wish, therefore, to have 
his views on the subject. I look on the work of the 
ministry as too sacred to be entered upon without due 
consideration. I would rather be a minister of the 
Gospel than be President. But, anxious as I am to 
preach Jesus to dying men, I would not engage in it 
as my life-work for worlds, if God has not called me 
to it. If, under the old dispensation — a dispensation 
of types and shadows of good things to come — God 
was angry when one not called to the sacred office 
but touched the ark — and that too, as he believed, to 
prevent its falling — what can we expect but the divine 
displeasure, now the shadow has passed away, if 
one presumes to enter the holy calling and handle the 
realities foreshadowed, without the divine warrant? 
Thete are some reasons why I love the profession of 
the law. It gives one an excellent opportunity to 


THE CONTRAST. 


229 


study human nature. In the court house we see it in 
its best, as well as in its meanest moods. Here we 
see witnesses and interested parties evading truth and 
justice, by fair means or foul; while others speak the 
whole truth, though it be to their prejudice. Where 
real Christians are called to testify, we have no mis- 
givings with regard to justice. Perhaps this is one of 
the reasons why you seldom find a lawyer who is an 
infidel. They have better opportunities than most 
other men to observe the power and influence of re- 
ligion upon human nature. Another reason why I 
love it, is that it gives frequent opportunities to defend 
the innocent victim of oppression and chicanery, as, 
also, to expose the guilty and dishonest. I may also 
add, I love this profession because it affords splendid 
opportunities for the use of our highest attainments 
in the lore of the past and the learning of the present 
age. But what are all these advantages, when laid in 
the balances against the bliss of saving one soul under 
God? I have felt proudly happy, when conscious of 
having wrung from unwilling hands the justice that 
is due the poor and the needy; but give to me, 
instead, the happiness that was born of success in 
winning souls to Christ ! I am not indifferent to the 
innocent pleasures of earth ; but these are satisfying 
only as they connect me, in some way, to ‘brighter 
bliss above.' If I enter the ministry (which I now 
feel I shall be obliged to do), the experience I have 
in my present profession will be no disadvantage to 
me. I know more of human nature than I could have 


230 


THE CONTRAST. 


learned in the ministry in the same length of time. I 
shall be able to point out the practical effects of human 
depravity with more precision than I could have done 
without the schooling I have received in the court- 
room. So, my dear father, while on some accounts 
I wish I had been in the ministry, instead of the prac- 
tice of law, since my majority, there are other and 
weighty reasons why I do not regret the way the Lord 
has led me. To enter the ministry now involves the 
sacrifice of a lucrative business; but it seems to me, 
at present, that I can make it without regret — that I 
shall not imitate the Israelites, when they sighed for 
the flesh-pots of Egypt. I think the feeling of my 
heart is and has been, ever since God pardoned my 
sins, ‘ Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do ? ' If I 
know my heart, I would do His will, and am conscious 
that in doing it there is great reward — so that, when 
He requires a sacrifice at one point, it is that the re- 
ward may be greater at another ; when He requires the 
renunciation of earthly comforts, it is that He may 
increase the spiritual and heavenly. 

“Remember me affectionately to mother and sisters, 
and believe me ever your obedient son, 

“ Westerfield.’^ 

I need not here repeat that Mr. Gipson was over- 
joyed at the thought of his son’s entering the minis- 
try. This had been the highest aspiration of his life. 
For this he had longed and prayed ; and now when 
he saw that all his hopes were likely to be realized he 
was almost ready to say with old Simeon, * * Lord, now 


THE CONTRAST. 


231 


lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to 
thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” 
He went at once to his pastor with his great joy. It 
was difficult to tell which of them enjoyed the glad 
news most intensely. Mr. Thomas felt like God was 
raising up a man to take his place, and that too 
among his own spiritual children. The first thought 
which entered his mind was that they would try to 
bring Westerfield home, and settle him in Leighton- 
ville. He mentioned it to Mr. Gipson. ‘*Oh, 
Brother Thomas, that would be more than I ever ex- 
pected, more than I ever asked my Savior to do for 
me!” “And what of that?” asked the old man; “are 
we not told that He ‘is able to do exceeding abun- 
dantly above all that we ask or think?' Why, He 
has done more for you many a time than you ex- 
pected or asked, and why not now?” When the 
news spread among the members of the church all 
were pleased, and many expressed the wish that he 
would return to Kentucky. Mr. Thomas soon wrote 
to Westerfield giving him his views on the call to the 
ministry \ and at the same time pointing out those 
evidences given by Westerfield in his letter to his 
father. “If you have told the truth,” said he, in con- 
cluding his letter, “I can not doubt your call to 
preach the gospel. God never gives his children the 
feelings and desires you have only to tantalize them, 
and Satan would not give such desires, with such mo- 
tives, if he could.” Westerfield was soon licensed 
by his brethren to preach Christ to his fellow men. 


232 


THE CONTRAST. 


He proceeded at once to wind up his business, and 
at the end of six months was in a condition to give 
himself wholly ‘ ‘ to prayer, and to the ministry of the 
word." He had exercised his gifts as opportunity 
offered during the interval, but now that he was free 
from worldly care, and could give undivided attention 
to the interests of the Redeemer’s kingdom, he natu- 
rally looked around for a place where he might labor 
with acceptance and profit to his hearers. Will any 
one think it strange that his thoughts turned toward 
the home of his youth? Not that he had a thought 
of supplanting the dear old man he had learned to 
love in his childhood, but he knew there was an open 
door in Kentucky where he might spend a lifetime in 
doing good without encroaching upon any one. Mr. 
Thomas was not as old to Westerfield as he was to 
those who had been with him during the last six 
years. He saw him only as he had seen him before 
he went to Georgetown. True, he had seen him 
every year during this period, but he was not with 
him enough to notice how his strength was failing. 
He was still to him the strong man he had known in 
his youth. The idea that Leightonville was soon to 
have another pastor to go in and out before her peo- 
ple had never presented itself to his mind. He had 
thought, however, of the fields around, which were 
white with standing grain, that might be entered from 
Leightonville as a base for the reapers, and his heart 
turned instinctively to such a field. As soon, there- 
fore, as his business in Georgia was fully settled, he 


THE CONTRAST. 


233 


returned to his childhood’s home, and was once more 
an inmate of his father’s house. The old pastor said 
to him a few days after his arrival : ‘ ‘ My son, I have 
a tolerable library. I am not using it much at present. 
I find at my time of life that much study is a weari- 
ness of the flesh, but if I can’t bear the toil of study 
now, you can, and I therefore want you to occupy 
my study and use my books. The tools must not 
rust if some of the workmen do tire and faint.” This 
was an unexpected favor. Westerfield appreciated 
it very highly, and accepted it with many thanks. 
He did a great deal of preaching among the destitute, 
besides preaching frequently for Mr. Thomas in his 
churches. But a few months passed until the old 
pastor rose in a business meeting of the church and 
said to the members : ‘ ‘ Brethren, I am old and well 
stricken in years, and according to the course of na- 
ture I can last but a little longer. As a father desires 
to see his children settled in life before he dies and 
goes hence, so I have desired to see a pastor settled 
over you before I am called to my reward. God has 
given us a young man known to us all from his in- 
fancy. He is among us now, and we have an oppor- 
tunity to secure his services, but we can not expect 
the churches over the country to wait long on us. 
Brother Gipson’s talents will soon be known abroad 
and his services will be in demand. Our tardiness may 
give him to others. We should act wisely, take time 
by the forelock, and secure him while we may. What 
I wish to advise is, that you release me and call him 


234 


THE CONTRAST. 


to take the oversight of the flock here.” The breth- 
ren consulted awhile, and then a proposition was 
made to retain the old pastor and invite Westerfield 
to aid him in all the duties of his office. This plan 
was finally adopted. Mr. Thomas was satisfied 
with it, and so were all the members. The young 
preacher was ordained soon afterward, and entered 
upon the work of a pastor under the guidance of his 
father in Christ, with the zeal and ardor of an earnest 
nature. 


I 


CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 


When Westerfield Gipson was a child, he had 
formed an attachment for a little girl who was sent to 
the same school with himself and sisters for a few 
months. She had boarded at his father’s house during 
the time. This child was so gentle in her manners, 
so polite to all, that she became a favorite with the 
family, and often exchanged visits with the girls 
through all her growing years. We have already 
introduced the child to the reader. You will readily 
recall Alice Lovelace, who sat with her mother 
on that stormy night when her father was belated by 
an unexpected yisit to Mrs. Baum, the deserted wife. 
Well, this is the amiable little girl whom Westerfield 
loved when they were children. They had talked it 
over when, tired of play, they sat side by side in 
some shady nook of the academy play ground. This 
childish love had grown with their growth, and 
strengthened with their strength. 

When he left Kentucky, to practice his profession 
in the sunny South, he told Alice he hoped in a few 
years to be able to support her in the style she de- 

(23s) 


236 


THE CONTRAST. 


served, and as would become a lawyer’s wife. ‘ ‘Why, 
said she, “Westerfield you talk just like we had been 
engaged to each other for many months, and were 
just waiting for the cruel fates to get propitious that 
we might marry and be ever so happy!” “And is 
not that all even so?” said Westerfield, looking very 
serious. “Why, Westerfield, no! at least I don’t 
know anything about it. What does make you talk 
so?” “I talked so because I thought so,” said he, 
still looking grave; “have I not told you fifty times 
that I loved you as I loved no one else? and have you 
not told me as often that you loved me with all your 
child heart?” “Oh, you are talking of our childhood, 
Mr. Gipson, but you know we are grown now, and 
talking of love and marriage now is a more serious 
thing than it was when we were children.” Alice 
had grown serious, and the laugh that spread all over 
her sweet face a few minutes before had given place 
to a blush that made her look even more lovely than 
the smile had done. Westerfield went on, “That is 
true, Alice, and I assure you I was never more serious 
than at present. I have chosen a profession in which 
I hope to be able to do good and make a living. I 
am to leave Kentucky in a few days for a home in the 
South, where I have flattering prospects; but in all 
my efforts to qualify myself for usefulness in life, next 
to my Savior, your happiness has actuated me. If I 
ever had a dream, of wealth or fame, it was the 
thought that I should share it with you, that inspired 
it. I own that I loved you with a boyish love, when 


THE CONTRAST. 


237 


we gathered wild roses together, or sat in the shade 
and listened to the songs of birds filling woods and 
fields with melody. I was happy in the thought that 
my love was returned. Was it not so, Alice?” Her 
eyes were raised to his a moment, just a moment, and 
then they drooped again, but Westerfield read in their 
light the one word, yes,” and proceeded: “The love 
your childish innocence inspired then, your womanly 
graces have strengthened into cables of brass. As I 
sought then to know that my affection found a re- 
sponse in your bosom, so I come to day to ascertain 
whether my stronger attachment finds a correspond- 
ing motion in your woman’s heart. May I know 
whether the passing years have weakened or strength- 
ened the love you gave me in the innocence of child- 
hood ?” There was silence, and young Gipson could 
see that there was a struggle going on in her bosom 
which she was willing to hide. This becoming appa- 
rent to Westerfield, he sought to relieve the embar- 
rassment by saying: “Alice, if a change has taken 
place in your feelings toward me I beg you to forget 
this interview, and only think of me as your boy- 
lover.” “Westerfield, not that,” began the maiden, 
“and if you won’t think me a silly girl, I will tell you 
I have never known any such change as you speak of. 
The friendships of my childhood are all dearer to me 
to-day than they were when I first formed them. I 
have seen nothing to make me think less of you, but 
rather the contrary.” Westerfield said, “May I then 
understand you as consenting to be my wife as soon as 


THE CONTRAST. 


238 

the fates are propitious?’' “I could never be the wife 
of any other, ” was spoken in low, soft accents. ‘ ‘Now, ” 
said Westerfield, “I can leave Kentucky satisfied, 
and I will feel it a pleasure to work late and early 
while I have in view the prospect of sharing life and 
all its joys with you.” The evening was spent in the 
enjoyment of such pleasures as sensible people can ap- 
prove, without further allusion to their covenant en- 
gagement. Westerfield left the parsonage early the 
next morning and proceeded to his chosen home in 
Georgia, where we have already noted his career for 
over two years; at the expiration of which period 
he resolved to give up his profession and devote him- 
self to the ministry of the Word. When his mind 
was fully made up on this point, he announced his in- 
tention to Alice in the following communication: 

‘ ‘ Dear Alice : — Over two years ago I obtained 
your consent to become a lawyer' s wife. God has so 
prospered me that, if I were going to continue in the 
practice, I would now be able to make you comfort- 
able and happy — at least, so far as money would con- 
tribute to these ends; but I write you this to inform 
you that I have given up my practice at the bar, and 
am now settling up my business preparatory to enter- 
ing a holier calling. My conscience has been ill at 
ease for months past, and I can truly say with the 
great apostle to the Gentiles: ‘Woe is unto me, if I 
preach not the Gospel ! ’ Perhaps you will be aston- 
ished to hear that I have already commenced preaching. 
My soul leaps forward to the work ; I am happy in it, 


THE CONTRAST. 


239 


and I see but one thing connected with this new call- 
ing which checks my enthusiasm. And that is, I will 
not be able to surround you with as many comforts as 
I hoped to do when you promised to be mine. If 
you will now promise to be a minister's wife, I can tell 
you of joys at God’s right hand, as your reward for 
toils and privations, but can not promise you mansions 
here. Having known no other life than that of a 
member of a minister’s family, I can not teach you 
with regard to the trials incident to such a life, but 
rather have need to learn of you. Write soon, and 
don’t be too severe on me for the change I have made 
in my calling. I must obey my Savior, and He makes 
it my duty to change, Let me know that you are 
not displeased, and I shall be content. Yours, as 
ever, Westerfield.’* 

Sooner than he expected, young Gipson received 
in answer to the above the following communication: 

“Mr. Gipson. Dear Sir : — Y our favor is at hand, in 
which you inform me that you have turned preacher, 
and request me not to be too severe on you for it, &c. 
I can not tell you how happy I am to know from your- 
self that you are no longer a lawyer, but a minister. 
You remember you thought a change had taken place 
in my feelings toward you, because I hesitated when 
you asked me to share with you the joys and ills of life? 
The struggle which I could not hide, was not on ac- 
count of any want of affection for you ; but, while I 
loved you and only you, I had always set my heart on 
being a minister’s wife. It was this that made me 


240 


THE CONTRAST. 


hesitate. I thought of telling you so ; but, before the 
thought took form in words, I remembered that none 
should ever enter the holy office without the approval 
of heaven ; and I suppressed the expression of it, lest 
I might unwittingly turn your mind to a calling where 
God had no use for you. You speak of toils and pri- 
vations. These have no terrors for me. To aid my 
husband in winning souls, by lightening his burdens 
and cares, has constituted the highest aspiration of 
my life. And now that all my hopes are so nearly 
realized, I am but too happy. The Lord is dealing 
bountifully with me— O how my soul doth magnify His 
holy name! Believe me, ever your own Alice.” 

Westerfield rejoiced to learn that he was now en- 
gaged in the work of all others most approved by his 
affianced. When on his way to Leightonville from 
Macon, he halted at Mr. Lovelace’s a day or two, and 
he and Alice agreed, as soon as he received a call from 
some church or churches, to consummate their happi- 
ness in marriage. And this brings the loose ends of 
our story once more to a common point. We have 
seen how our young preacher was settled over the 
dear old church where he first learned the way to 
heaven, and where his honored parents held their 
membership. He had saved a few hundred dollars of 
his earnings, with which he furnished a cozy little house 
in the village of his nativity. To this he brought his 
Alice, and installed her as the mistress of his home 
and the queen of his heart. 

And thus our story ends. 


?• 


t 

I 

f 




s 

1 


K 




t 


/ 


■ 




if / 


I ' 


f. 






- . i’’VV 
^ ♦ ./■- 


^JCTc^^V i 


; .f ^ r 




y'^ 


', • 


-r. *^i 


V ''•»: 

>• A)* 
• >/<> 


I. 


. \' • '-V-l 


• .1 

U 




*> # — \ f 

t 


- V /*•• i' 

• ^ - v; 


e .1 


-.’V 


4 • 

• V . 



\ ^ 




.* . 




’' i . ' ' 


«-■ « > - • 



wv 


nf 

< 


I 


J 1 • 

■ •• 



4 * 

J 




r> 


/. 


.■ v^' t'-a * 




i J. 


/ A 


ii •>! 


^ . 


, V 


v« 


‘ r- 


.■ • 




' >-* 


^ W 


; ; 

» . 

. / 



». " *.‘ • ' ' -« «♦ ■• ^ •' Vi * S 

. * c>:: n -- - ^'a 

;> • jT*'. -..(v* ../, •' .. ' . ,' ■'< ■ ■ /“i 

c \ * I • • , V ’ 

. # ' « f • ^ _ . 





» / 


/ ♦ 


% • A ^ 

» r 


r* t 
> 


• f 


' ^ y ' 


jr 

• t 4 


•W 


r •vV'^ V -- 

#* •'* jk 


1 ^' •>. ‘■■"1 

• ; '' 4 .V .. P' 

• ft, ^ ^ t * * • ♦ 1 4 % • * *• 

• -. * > ' ■’* 


r 


r 


• I 






, 








K- 


V w 


I. a;. 


$*, • 


'' • • ^Vi 

' 4 ♦T ^ 


\ 


■ N, . 

-' ? '-. 

'. V.. v ;’-ii.^ 

• • , I '% # f _ » 




♦r ^ 


4^. 


> . 


$ 

' > 


, , '»V.V»..,.,y 

. • 'j**..* 

. •.■■■■■ ■ ■ ■v'V'^ 


V 

*.r : 

i ■• 

A ,'. 

^ 4 


• ^ d 




•V • 




! ^ 




> f ; 


• > ^ ^ • M \ 

•:vf-V.; :V- 

* 


4 ‘ .. 

vvii - v- 




• A . .•{ H 



^ Hr , 

k . « 


*1 

y ' i . 


'4 . - 

V. • ^ \. 


% I 


^ / 


« # 


.1 




, .»,-»• ii- 

• :r-Ot 


• .< » 





• V. • 


• u » 


t • 
'k 


• . »• • ;V. / J 




V* » 




r ,-‘ 


. ) 


V 





<• # l‘V 

- 



>1 


« » 


m; 


I ' 


i^'' /- 






iJ^;- 


' 

•» • 


f • 


£! 


V' ' . 4 


, 4 


'I 

In 


> ^ w 


^ • 

I 


*» X . 


4- 4 . 








» • « 

\ 


t \ i 
• 






" •I'w . • • *» t 

ti ' \A ^^•■>V "..Av • ■ t 






• • 


^ -A 


4 •, 

^4 ** 




4 


r • 

• 1 4 ‘ 


^ » 







.A 


S ^ 



■ n- . 

































